OP 


. 


15439 


•Books  bp  I).  D.  (Lftorrau. 


WALDEN  ;  or,  Life  in  the  Woods.     i2tno,  gilt  top,  $1.50. 

Riverside  Aldine  Edition.     i6mo,  Ji.oo. 

A     WEEK  ON     THE     CONCORD    AND     MERR.MACK 

RIVERS.     1 2tno,  gilt  top,  $1.50. 

EXCURSIONS    IN    FIELD   AND    FOREST.     With  a  Bio 
graphical  Sketch  by  EMBRSON.      12010,  gilt  top,  $1.50. 
THE  MAINE  WOODS.     121110,  gilt  top,  $1.50. 
CAPE  COD.     i2mo,  gilt  top,  $1.50. 
LETTERS  TO  VARIOUS   PERSONS,  to  which  are  added 

a  few  Poems.     i2mo,  gilt  top,  51.50. 
A  YANKEE  IN  CANADA.     With  Antislavery  and  Reform 

Papers.     121110,  gilt  top,  $1.50. 
EARLY    SPRING    IN     MASSACHUSETTS.       From    the 

Journal  of  HENRY  D.  THORKAU.     i2mo,  gilt  top,  $1.50. 
SUMMER.     From  the  Journal   of   HENRY  D.  THOREAU. 

i2mo,  gilt  top,  $1.50. 
WINTER.     From   the  Journal  of   HENRY   D.  THOREAU. 

izmo,  gilt  top,  #1.50. 

The  above  ten  i2ino  volumes,  $15.00  :  half  calf,  $27. 50. 
SELECTIONS    FROM    THOREAU.     With   Bibliography. 

i8mo,  $1.00. 
THE    SUCCESSION    OF    FOREST  TREES  AND  WILD 

APPLES.      With    Biographical    Sketch    by    EMKRSON. 

i6mo,  paper,  15  cents. 

HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN   AND    COMPANY. 

BOSTON  AND  NEW  YORK. 


THOREAU'S    THOUGHTS 


SELECTIONS   FROM  THE  WRITINGS 
OF  HENRY  DAVID  THOREAU 


EDITED   BY 

H.  G.  O.  BLAKE 


We  shall  one  day  see  that  the  most  private  is  the  most  public 
energy,  that  quality  atones  for  quantity,  and  grandeur  of  character 
acts  in  the  dark,  and  succors  them  who  never  saw  it. 

EMERSON 


BOSTON    AND    NEW    YORK 
HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN   AND   COMPANY 


1890 


Copyright,  1890, 
BY  H.  G.  O.  BLAKE. 

All  rights  reserved. 


The  Riverside  Press,  Cambridge,  Mass.,  U.  S.  A. 
Electrotyped  and  Printed  by  H.  O.  Houghton  &  Company. 


INTRODUCTORY. 


IN  selecting  the  following  passages  from 
Thoreau's  printed  works,  for  the  use  of 
those  who  are  already  interested  in  him, 
and  to  win,  if  possible,  new  admirers  of 
what  has  given  me  so  pure  and  unfailing  a 
satisfaction  for  now  more  than  forty  years, 
I  desired  to  make  a  pocket  volume,  contain 
ing  beautiful  and  helpful  thoughts,  which 
one  might  not  only  read  in  retirement,  but 
use  as  a  traveling  companion,  or  vade  me- 
ciim,  while  waiting  at  a  hotel,  railway  sta 
tion,  or  elsewhere,  —  something  even  more 
convenient  and  ready  at  hand  than  the 
newspaper.  I  would  furnish  an  antidote 
to  the  dissipating,  depressing  influence  of 
too  much  newspaper  reading,  something 
which  instead  of  filling  the  mind  with  gos- 


IV  INTRODUCTORY. 

sip,  political  strife  and  misstatement,  ath 
letics,  pugilism,  accounts  of  shocking  acci 
dents,  and  every  kind  of  criminality,  may 
refresh  us  with  a  new  sense  of  the  beauty 
of  the  world,  and  make  us  feel  how  truly 
life  is  worth  living. 

"  O  world  as  God  has  made  it,  all  is  beauty  ; 
And  knowing  this  is  love,  and  love  is  duty." 

The  truth  expressed  in  these  lines  of 
Browning,  which  seems  to  me  the  highest 
wisdom,  and  so  the  essence  of  religion,  was 
no  transient  dream  with  Thoreau,  but  a 
deep  conviction  which  took  possession  of 
him  early  in  life,  never  to  be  relinquished, 
and  which  he  resolved  as  far  as  possible 
to  realize,  in  spite  of  the  false  usages  and 
allurements  of  the  '  world  as  '  man  '  has 
made  it.'  Though,  faithful  to  his  idea,  he 
felt  obliged  to  stand  somewhat  apart  from 
the  society  about  him,  yet  his  strong  and 
active  interest  in  the  anti-slavery  move 
ment,  and  his  instant  appreciation  and 
public  defense  of  Captain  John  Brown, 
show  clearly  how  sensitive  he  was  to  the 


INTRODUCTORY.  V 

tie  of  humanity.  It  is  the  close  alliance 
or  unity  of  Thoreau's  genius  and  personal 
character  which  gives  such  power  to  his 
words  for  the  purpose  I  have  in  view, 
namely,  to  awaken  or  revive  our  interest 
in  the  worthiest  things,  to  lift  us  above  the 
world  of  care  and  sadness  into  that  fairer 
world  which  is  always  waiting  to  receive  us. 
I  would  express  here  my  obligations  to 
Dr.  Samuel  A.  Jones,  of  Ann  Arbor,  Mi 
chigan,  for  the  free  use  of  his  "  Biblio 
graphy,"  which  has  been  with  him  indeed 
a  labor  of  love,  and  which,  I  am  sure,  will 
add  much  to  the  value  and  attractiveness 
of  this  volume. 

THE    EDITOR. 


SELECTIONS   FROM   THOREAU. 


The  best  kind      Reading,  in  a  high  sense,  is  not 

of  reading.        that    whjch    J^g    us     as    a    \uxury 

and  suffers  the  nobler  faculties  to  sleep  the 
while,  but  what  we  have  to  stand  on  tiptoe 
to  read  and  devote  our  most  alert  and 

Wakeful  hours  tO.  WALDEN,  p.  .13. 

society  in  ^  nave  never  felt  lonesome,  or 
in  the  least  oppressed  by  a  sense 
of  solitude,  but  once,  and  that  was  a  few 
weeks  after  I  came  to  the  woods,  when,  for 
an  hour,  I  doubted  if  the  near  neighbor 
hood  of  man  was  not  essential  to  a  serene 
and  healthy  life.  To  be  alone  was  some 
thing  unpleasant.  But  I  was  at  the  same 
time  conscious  of  a  slight  insanity  in  my 
mood,  and  seemed  to  foresee  my  recovery. 
In  the  midst  of  a  gentle  rain,  while  these 
thoughts  prevailed,  I  was  suddenly  sensi 
ble  of  such  sweet  and  beneficent  society 
in  Nature,  in  the  very  pattering  of  the 


2  SELECTIONS  FROM  THOREAU. 

drops,  and  in  every  sound  and  sight  around 
my  house,  an  infinite  and  unaccountable 
friendliness  all  at  once  like  an  atmosphere 
sustaining  me,  as  made  the  fancied  advan 
tages  of  human  neighborhood  insignificant, 
and  I  have  never  thought  of  them  since. 
Every  little  pine  needle  expanded  and 
swelled  with  sympathy  and  befriended  me. 
I  was  so  distinctly  made  aware  of  the  pres 
ence  of  something  kindred  to  me,  even  in 
scenes  which  we  are  accustomed  to  call 
wild  and  dreary,  and  also  that  the  nearest 
of  blood  to  me  and  humanest  was  not  a 
person  nor  a  villager,  that  I  thought  no 
place  could  ever  be  strange  to  me  again. 

WALDKN,  p.  143. 

The  best           What  sort  of  space  is  that  which 

neighbor-  - 

hood.  separates  a  man  from  his  fellows 

and  makes  him  solitary  ?  I  have  found  that 
no  exertion  of  the  legs  can  bring  two  minds 
much  nearer  to  one  another.  What  do  we 
want  most  to  dwell  near  to  ?  Not  to 
many  men  surely,  the  depot,  the  post-of 
fice,  the  bar-room,  the  meeting-house,  the 
school-house,  the  grocery,  Beacon  Hill,  or 
the  Five  Points,  where  men  most  congre 
gate,  but  to  the  perennial  source  of  our 


SELECTIONS  FROM  THOREAU.  3 

life,  whence  in  all  our  experience  we  have 
found  that  to  issue,  as  the  willow  stands 
near  the  water  and  sends  out  its  roots  in 
that  direction.  This  will  vary  with  differ 
ent  natures,  but  this  is  the  place  where  a 
wise  man  will  dig  his  cellar.  WALDEN,  P  144. 

our  nearest  AnY  prospect  of  awakening  or 
coming  to  life  to  a  dead  man 
makes  indifferent  all  times  and  places. 
The  place  where  that  may  occur  is  always 
the  same,  and  indescribably  pleasant  to 
all  our  senses.  For  the  most  part  we  al 
low  only  outlying  and  transient  circum 
stances  to  make  our  occasions.  They  are, 
in  fact,  the  cause  of  our  distraction.  Near 
est  to  all  things  is  that  power  which  fash 
ions  their  being.  Next  to  us  the  grandest 
laws  are  continually  being  executed.  Next 
to  us  is  not  the  workman  whom  we  have 
hired,  with  whom  we  love  so  well  to  talk, 
but  the  workman  whose  work  we  are. 

WALDEN,  p.  145. 


our  double        However   intense    my    experi 
ence,  I  am  conscious  of  the  pres 
ence  and  criticism  of  a  part  of  me,  which, 
as  it  were,  is  not  a  part  of  me,  but  specta- 


4  SELECTIONS  FROM  THOREAU. 

tor,  sharing  no  experience,  but  taking  note 
of  it ;  and  that  is  no  more  I  than  it  is  you. 
When  the  play,  it  may  be  the  tragedy,  of 
life  is  over,  the  spectator  goes  his  way.  It 
was  a  kind  of  fiction,  a  work  of  the  imagi 
nation  only,  so  far  as  he  was  concerned. 
This  doubleness  may  easily  make  us  poor 
neighbors  and  friends  sometimes. 

WALDEN,  p.  146. 

The  most  I  never  found  the  companion 
comspanbny-  that  was  so  companionable  as 
shlp'  solitude.  We  are  for  the  most 

part  more  lonely  when  we  go  abroad  among 
men  than  when  we  stay  in  our  chambers. 

WALDK.V,  p.  147. 

TOO  much          Society  is  commonly  too  cheap. 

shallow  '  ' 

intercourse.  We  meet  at  very  short  inter 
vals,  not  having  had  time  to  acquire  any 
new  value  for  each  other.  We  live  thick 
and  are  in  each  other's  way,  and  stumble 
over  one  another,  and  I  think  that  we  thus 
lose  some  respect  for  one  another.  Cer 
tainly  less  frequency  would  suffice  for  all 
important  and  hearty  communications. 
The  value  of  a  man  is  not  in  his  skin,  that 

We  Should  tOUCh  him.  WALDEN,  p.  147. 


SELECTIONS  FROM  THOREAU.  5 

The  value  of  T  have  a  great  deal  of  company 
in  my  house  ;  especially  in  the 
morning,  when  nobody  calls.  I  am  no 
more  lonely  than  the  loon  in  the  pond  that 
laughs  so  loud,  or  than  Walden  Pond  itself. 
What  company  has  that  lonely  lake,  I 
pray  ?  And  yet  it  has  not  the  blue  devils, 
but  the  blue  angels  in  it,  in  the  azure  tint 
of  its  waters.  God  is  alone,  —  but  the 
devil,  he  is  far  from  being  alone ;  he  sees  a 
great  deal  of  company  ;  he  is  legion. 

WALDEN,  p.  148. 

Sympathy  of  The  indescribable  innocence 
Sm^  and  beneficence  of  Nature,  — of 
sun  and  wind  and  rain,  of  sum 
mer  and  winter,  —  such  health,  such  cheer, 
they  afford  forever !  and  such  sympathy 
have  they  ever  with  our  race,  that  all  Na 
ture  would  be  affected,  and  the  sun's 
brightness  fade,  and  the  winds  would  sigh 
humanely,  and  the  clouds  rain  tears,  and 
the  woods  shed  their  leaves  and  put  on 
mourning  in  midsummer,  if  any  man  should 
ever  for  a  just  cause  grieve.  Shall  I  not 
have  intelligence  with  the  earth  ?  Am  I 

not  partly  leaves  and  vegetable  mould  my- 
WALDEN,  p.  149. 


6  SELECTIONS  FROAI  THOREAU. 

Hebepre-          I  am  no  worshiper  of  Hygeia, 
Hygeia.        who  was  the  dauhter  of  that  old 


herb  -  doctor  ^Esculapius,  but  rather  of 
Hebe,  cupbearer  to  Jupiter,  who  was  the 
daughter  of  Juno  and  wild  lettuce,  and  who 
had  the  power  of  restoring  gods  and  men 
to  the  vigor  of  youth.  She  was  probably 
the  only  thoroughly  sound  -  conditioned, 
healthy,  and  robust  young  lady  that  ever 
walked  the  globe,  and  wherever  she  came, 

it  Was  Spring.  WALDEN,  p.  150. 

Animal  food       It  is  hard  to  provide  and  cook 

offends  the  .  .  .  .   , 

imagination,  so  simple  and  clean  a  diet  as  will 
not  offend  the  imagination  ;  but  this,  I 
think,  is  to  be  fed  when  we  feed  the  body  ; 
they  should  both  sit  down  at  the  same  ta 
ble.  It  may  be  vain  to  ask  why  the  imagi 
nation  will  not  be  reconciled  to  flesh  and 
fat.  I  am  satisfied  that  it  is  not.  What 
ever  my  own  practice  may  be,  I  have  no 
doubt  that  it  is  a  part  of  the  destiny  of  the 
human  race,  in  its  gradual  improvement, 
to  leave  off  eating  animals,  as  surely  as 
the  savage  tribes  have  left  off  eating  each 
other  when  they  came  in  contact  with  the 

more  Civilized.  WALDBN,  P.  232. 


SELECTIONS  FROM  THOKEAU.  7 

The  faintest  assured  objection 


intima-     wnich  one  healthy  man  feels  will 


The  slight 
est  inti 
tions  of 

one^-s  genius  ^  length  prevail  over  the  argu- 
regarded.  ments  and  customs  of  mankind. 
No  man  ever  followed  his  genius  till  it 
misled  him.  Though  the  result  were  bodily 
weakness,  yet  perhaps  no  one  can  say  that 
the  consequences  were  to  be  regretted,  for 
these  were  a  life  in  conformity  to  higher 
principles.  If  the  day  and  the  night  are 
such  that  you  greet  them  with  joy,  and  life 
emits  a  fragrance  like  flowers  and  sweet- 
scented  herbs,  is  more  elastic,  more  starry, 
more  immortal,  —  that  is  your  success. 
All  nature  is  your  congratulation,  and  you 
have  cause  momentarily  to  bless  yourself. 
The  greatest  gains  and  values  are  farthest 
from  being  appreciated.  We  easily  come 
to  doubt  if  they  exist.  We  soon  forget 
them.  They  are  the  highest  reality.  Per 
haps  the  facts  most  astounding  and  most 
real  are  never  communicated  by  man  to 
man.  The  true  harvest  of  my  daily  life 
is  somewhat  as  intangible  and  indescrib 
able  as  the  tints  of  morning  or  evening. 
It  is  a  little  star-dust  caught,  a  segment  of 
the  rainbow  which  I  have  clutched. 

WALDEN,  p.  233. 


8  SELECTIONS  FROM   THOREAU. 

inspiration  Who  has  not  sometimes  derived 
palate.  an  inexpressible  satisfaction  from 
his  food  in  which  appetite  had  no  share  ? 
I  have  been  thrilled  to  think  that  I  owed 
a  mental  perception  to  the  commonly  gross 
sense  of  taste,  that  I  have  been  inspired 
through  the  palate,  that  some  berries  which 
I  had  eaten  on  a  hill-side  had  fed  my  ge 
nius.  WALDEN,  p.  234- 

The  quality        He  who  distinguishes  the  true 

of  the  appe-  ,    .   .        ,         ,  , 

the  makes      savor  oi  his  food  can  never  be  a 

the  sensual-         , 

ist.  glutton  ;    he  who  does  not   can 

not  be  otherwise.  A  puritan  may  go  to 
his  brown -bread  crust  with  as  gross  an 
appetite  as  ever  an  alderman  to  his  turtle. 
Not  that  food  which  entereth  into  the 
mouth  defileth  a  man,  but  the  appetite 
with  which  it  is  eaten  ;  it  is  neither  the 
quantity  nor  the  quality,  but  the  devotion 

tO  SenSUal  SaVOrS.  WALDEN,  p.  235- 

The  moral  Our  whole  life  is  startlingly 
rSald  moral.  There  is  never  an  in 
stant's  truce  between  virtue  and 
vice.  Goodness  is  the  only  investment 
that  never  fails.  In  the  music  of  the 
harp  that  trembles  round  the  world  it  is 


SELECTIONS  FROM  THOREAU.  9 

the  insisting  on  this  which  thrills  us. 
Though  the  youth  at  last  grows  indifferent, 
the  laws  of  the  universe  are  not  indiffer 
ent,  but  are  forever  on  the  side  of  the 
most  sensitive.  Listen  to  every  zephyr 
for  some  reproof,  for  it  is  surely  there,  and 
he  is  unfortunate  who  does  not  hear  it. 
We  cannot  touch  a  string  or  move  a  stop 
but  the  charming  moral  transfixes  us. 
Many  an  irksome  noise,  go  a  long  way  off, 
is  heard  as  music,  a  proud  sweet  satire  on 
the  meanness  of  our  lives.  WALDKN,  p.  235. 

Delicacy  of         "  That  in  which  men  differ  from 

the  distinc-        1111  • 

tion  between  brute  beasts,      says  Mencius,  "  is 

men  and  .  .... 

beasts.  a  thing  very  inconsiderable  ;  the 
common  herd  lose  it  very  soon ;  superior 
men  preserve  it  carefully."  WALDEN,  P.  236. 

Purity  in-           Chastity   is    the    flowering    of 

spires  the 

soui.  man  ;  and  what  are  called  Genius, 

Heroism,  Holiness,  and  the  like,  are  but 
various  fruits  which  succeed  it.  Man  flows 
at  once  to  God  when  the  channel  of  purity 
is  open.  By  turns  our  purity  inspires  and 
our  impurity  casts  us  down.  He  is  blessed 
who  is  assured  that  the  animal  is  dying 
out  in  him  day  by  day,  and  the  divine  being 

established.  WALDEN,  p.  236. 


IO        SELECTIONS  FROM  THOREAU. 

Purity  and         A11  sensuality  is  one,  though  it 
eachTsin-     takes  many  forms;  all  purity  is 

gle  thing. 


man  eat,  or  drink,  or  sleep  sensually. 
They  are  but  one  appetite,  and  we  only 
need  to  see  a  person  do  any  one  of  these 
things  to  know  how  great  a  sensualist  he  is. 
The  impure  can  neither  stand  nor  sit  with 
purity.  When  the  reptile  is  attacked  at 
one  mouth  of  his  burrow,  he  shows  himself 
at  another.  WALDEN,  P.  237- 

work  a  help  ^  You  w°uld  avoid  uncleanness, 
agamst  sm.  anj  ajj  ^g  s[nS)  work  earnestly, 

though  it  be  at  cleaning  a  stable.  Nature 
is  hard  to  be  overcome,  but  she  must  be 

Overcome.  WALDEN,  p.  237. 

Everyone  Every  man  is  the  builder  of  a 
a  scuW.  temple,  called  his  body,  to  the 
god  he  worships,  after  a  style  purely  his 
own,  nor  can  he  get  off  by  hammering 
marble  instead.  We  are  all  sculptors  and 
painters,  and  our  material  is  our  own  flesh 
and  blood  and  bones.  Any  nobleness  be 
gins  at  once  to  refine  a  man's  features,  any 
meanness  or  sensuality  to  imbrute  them. 

WALDEN,  p.  238. 


SELECTIONS  FROM   THOREAU.         II 
A  V°ice  Said  t 


Thepurifica- 

loui  gives  it  mer],  —  Why  do  you  stay  here 
a  new  hfe.  an^  j-ye  ^is  mean  moiling  life, 

when  a  glorious  existence  is  possible  for 
you  ?  Those  same  stars  twinkle  over  other 
fields  than  these.  But  how  to  come  out 
of  this  condition  and  actually  migrate 
thither  ?  All  he  could  think  of  was  to 
practice  some  new  austerity,  to  let  his 
mind  descend  into  his  body  and  redeem 
it,  and  treat  himself  with  ever  increasing 

respect.  WALDEN,  p.  239. 

strike  at  the       There  are  a  thousand  hacking 

root  of  social  ....  , 

nis  by  pun-  at  the  branches  ot  evil  to  one  who 
owiThfe.  is  striking  at  the  root,  and  it  may 
be  that  he  who  bestows  the  largest  amount 
of  time  and  money  on  the  needy  is  doing 
the  most  by  his  mode  of  life  to  produce 
that  misery  which  he  strives  in  vain  to  re 
lieve.  It  is  the  pious  slave-breeder  devot 
ing  the  proceeds  of  every  tenth  slave  to 
buy  a  Sunday's  liberty  for  the  rest.  Some 
show  their  kindness  to  the  poor  by  em 
ploying  them  in  their  kitchens.  Would 
they  not  be  kinder  if  they  employed  them 

selves  there  ?  WALDEN,  p.  83. 


12         SELECTIONS  FROM  THOREAU. 

Overflowing  I  do  not  value  chiefly  a  man's 
charity6  uprightness  and  benevolence, 
rmuhitude3  which  are,  as  it  were,  his  stem 
and  leaves.  Those  plants  of  whose 
greenness  withered  we  make  herb  tea  for 
the  sick  serve  but  a  humble  use,  and  are 
most  employed  by  quacks.  I  want  the 
flower  and  fruit  of  a  man  ;  that  some  fra 
grance  be  wafted  over  from  him  to  me,  and 
some  ripeness  flavor  our  intercourse.  His 
goodness  must  not  be  a  partial  and  transi 
tory  act,  but  a  constant  superfluity,  which 
costs  him  nothing  and  of  which  he  is  un 
conscious.  This  is  a  charity  that  hides  a 

multitude  Of  Sins.  WALDKN,  P.  83. 

what  sad-  I  believe  that  what  so  saddens 
reformer.  the  reformer  is  not  his  sympathy 
with  his  fellows  in  distress,  but,  though  he 
be  the  holiest  son  of  God,  is  his  private 
ail.  Let  this  be  righted,  let  the  spring 
come  to  him,  the  morning  rise  over  his 
couch,  and  he  will  forsake  his  generous 
companions  without  apology.  WALDEN.P.  s4. 

Our  own  All  health  and  success  does  me 

sanity  most     good,  however  far  off  and  with- 

helpfulto 

others.          drawn  it  may  appear ;  all  disease 


SELECTIONS  FROM   THOREAU,         13 

and  failure  helps  to  make  me  sad  and  does 
me  evil,  however  much  sympathy  it  may 
have  with  me  or  I  with  it.  If,  then,  we 
would  restore  mankind  by  truly  Indian, 
botanic,  magnetic,  or  natural  means,  let  us 
be  as  simple  and  well  as  Nature  ourselves, 
dispel  the  clouds  which  hang  over  our  own 
brows,  and  take  up  a  little  life  into  our 
pores.  Do  not  stay  to  be  an  overseer  of 
the  poor,  but  endeavor  to  become  one  of 
the  worthies  of  the  world.  WALDBN,  P.  85. 


The  true  A  man  is  rich  in  proportion  to 

the  number  of  things  which  he 
can  afford  to  let  alone.  WALDEN,  P.  89. 


The  best  With  respect  to  landscapes,  — 

crop  which         ,,  T  i       j-     n  T 

a  farm  I  am  monarch  of  all  1  survey, 

affords.  My  right  there  is  none  to  dispute." 

I  have  frequently  seen  a  poet  withdraw, 
having  enjoyed  the  most  valuable  part  of  a 
farm,  while  the  crusty  farmer  supposed  that 
he  had  got  a  few  wild  apples  only.  Why, 
the  owner  does  not  know  it  for  many  years 
when  a. poet  has  put  his  farm  in  rhyme,  the 
most  admirable  kind  of  invisible  fence,  — 
has  fairly  impounded  it,  milked  it,  skimmed 
it,  and  got  all  the  cream,  and  left  the  farmer 
only  the  skimmed  milk.  WALDEN,  P.  90. 


14        SELECTIONS  FROM  THOREAU. 


Slavery  ^8    l°n£    as    possible,    live    ffCC 

to  affairs.  and  uncommitted.  It  makes  but 
little  difference  whether  you  are  committed 
to  a  farm  or  the  county  jail.  WALDEN,  P.  9.. 

Make  the  ^  ^°  not  propose  to  write  an 

™0goo0dfinhat  ode  to  dejection,  but  to  brag  as 

lustily  as  chanticleer  in  the  morn 

ing  standing  on  his  roost,  if  only  to  wake 

my  neighbors  Up.  WALDEN,  p.  9a. 

The  creation       The  winds  which  passed  over 

a  poem  to 

open  ears,  my  dwelling  were  such  as  sweep 
over  the  ridges  of  mountains,  bearing  the 
broken  strains,  or  celestial  parts  only,  of 
terrestrial  music.  The  morning  wind  for 
ever  blows,  the  poem  of  creation  is  unin 
terrupted  ;  but  few  are  the  ears  that  hear 
it.  Olympus  is  but  the  outside  of  the 
earth  everywhere.  WALDEN,  P.  92. 

The  invita-         Every  morning  was  a  cheerful 

tionofmorn-     ...  ,.r  , 

ing.  invitation    to    make    my   lite   ot 

equal  simplicity,  and  I  may  say  innocence, 
with  Nature  herself.  WALDKN,  P.  96. 

A  new  life  They  say  that  characters  were 
each  day.  engraven  on  the  bathing  tub  of 


SELECTIONS  FROM  THOREAU.         15 

king  Tching-Thang  to  this  effect  :  "  Re 
new  thyself  completely  each  day ;  do  it 
again,  and  again,  and  forever  again." 

WALDEH,  p.  96. 


we  should         Little  is  to  be  expected  of  that 

be  awakened      .  ,  .    . 

each  morn-    day,  it  it  can  be  called  a  day,  to 

ing  by  new  .  111 

inward  life,  which  we  are  not  awakened  by 
our  Genius,  but  by  the  mechanical  nudg- 
ings  of  some  servitor,  are  not  awakened 
by  our  own  newly  acquired  force  and  as 
pirations  from  within  to  a  higher  life  than 
we  fell  asleep  from.  WALDEN,  P.  96. 

After  a  partial  cessation  of  his 

The  organs 

gerdul're-      sensuous  life,  the  soul  of  man,  or 
bTrfeahnfui    its    organs   rather,    are   reinvigo- 
rated   each  day,  and  his  Genius 
tries  again  what  noble  life  it  can  make. 

WALDEN,  p.  97. 


Morning  is  To  him  whose  elastic  and  vig- 
rreetrulyrwe  orous  thought  keeps  pace  with 
the  sun,  the  day  is  a  perpetual 
morning.  It  matters  not  what  the  clocks 
say,  or  the  attitudes  and  labors  of  men. 
Morning  is  when  I  am  awake  and  there  is 
a  dawn  in  me.  WALDEN,  P.  97. 


1 6        SELECTIONS  FROM  THOREAU. 

NO  one  To  be  awake  Is  to  be  alive.     I 

thoroughly 

awake.  have  never  yet  met  a  man  who 
was  quite  awake.  How  could  I  have 
looked  him  in  the  face  ?  WALDEN,  P.  9s. 


Expectation  We  must  learn  to  reawaken  and 
of  the  dawn.  keep  ourseives  awake,  not  by 

mechanical  aids,  but  by  an  infinite  expec 
tation  of  the  dawn,  which  does  not  forsake 
us  in  our  soundest  sleep.  WALDEN,  p.  9s. 

Give  beauty        It  is  something  to  be  able  to 

to  the  day  . 

from  the        paint  a.  particular  picture,  or  to 

beauty 

within.  carve  a  statue,  and  so  to  make  a 
few  objects  beautiful  ;  but  it  is  far  more 
glorious  to  carve  and  paint  the  very  atmos 
phere  and  medium  through  which  we  look, 
which  morally  we  can  do.  To  affect  the 
quality  of  the  day,  —  that  is  the  highest 

Of    arts.  WALDEN,  p.  98. 

Real  life.  I  did  not  wish  to  live  what  was 

not  life,  living  is  so  dear  ;  nor  did  I  wish 
to  practice  resignation,  unless  it  was  quite 

necessary.  WALDEN,  p.  98. 

Life  not  to         Our  life  is  frittered   away  by 

co±Texityhe  detail.        Simplicity,     simplicity, 

simplicity!     Let   your  affairs  be 


SELECTIONS  FROM  THOREAU.         I/ 

as  two  or  three,  and  not  a  hundred  or  a 
thousand  ;  instead  of  a  million  count  half 
a  dozen,  and  keep  your  accounts  on  your 

thumb  nail.  WALDEN,  p.  99- 

"Plain  living     The  nation  itself  is  just  such  an 

and  high  .    .  ,  .  , .    , 

thinking."  unwieldy  and  overgrown  establish 
ment,  cluttered  with  furniture  and  tripped 
up  by  its  own  traps,  ruined  by  luxury  and 
heedless  expense,  by  want  of  calculation 
and  a  worthy  aim,  as  the  million  house 
holds  in  the  land  ;  and  the  only  cure  for  it 
as  for  them  is  in  a  rigid  economy,  a  stern 
and  more  than  Spartan  simplicity  of  life 
and  elevation  of  purpose.  WALDEN,  P.  99- 

Life  wasted  Why  should  we  live  with  such 
in  affairs.  hurry  and  waste  of  life  ?  We  are 
determined  to  be  starved  before  we  are 
hungry.  Men  say  that  a  stitch  in  time 
saves  nine,  and  so  they  take  a  thousand 
stitches  to-day  to  save  nine  to-morrow. 

WALDEN,  p.  100. 


The  news  as       What  news  !    how  much  more 

wXt^ai    important  to   know  what  that  is 

which  was  never  old  !    "  Kieou-he- 

yu   (great  dignitary  of  the  state  of  Wei) 


1 8        SELECTIONS  FROM  THOREAU. 

sent  a  man  to  Khoung-tseu  to  know  his 
news.  Khoung-Tseu  caused  the  messenger 
to  be  seated  near  him,  and  questioned  him 
in  these  terms :  '  What  is  your  master 
doing  ? '  The  messenger  answered  with 
respect,  '  My  master  desires  to  diminish 
the  number  of  his  faults,  but  he  cannot 
come  to  the  end  of  them.'  The  messenger 
being  gone,  the  philosopher  remarked : 
'  What  a  worthy  messenger  !  What  a  wor 
thy  messenger  !  ' '  WALDEN,  P.  103. 

what  alone  If  we  respected  only  what  is  in- 
has  reality.  evitabie  and  has  a  right  to  be, 

music  and  poetry  would  resound  along  the 
streets.  When  we  are  unhurried  and  wise, 
we  perceive  that  only  great  and  worthy 
things  have  any  permanent  and  absolute 
existence,  —  that  petty  fears  and  petty 
pleasures  are  but  the  shadow  of  the  reality. 
This  is  always  exhilarating  and  sublime. 

WALDEN,  p.  103. 


The  great  God  himself  culminates  in  the 
eve'r'L're  present  moment,  and  will  never 
be  more  divine  in  all  the  ages. 
And  we  are  enabled  to  apprehend  at  all 
what  is  sublime  and  noble,  only  by  the 


SELECTIONS  FROM  THOREAU.         19 

perpetual  instilling  and  drenching  of  the 
reality  that  surrounds  us.  WALDEN,  P.  ioS. 

Live  deiib-  Let  us  spend  one  day  as  deliber 
ately  as  Nature,  and  not  be  thrown 
off  the  track  by  every  nutshell  and  mos 
quito's  wing  that  falls  on  the  rails.  Let 
us  rise  early,  and  fast,  or  break  fast,  gently 
and  without  perturbation ;  let  company 
come  and  let  company  go  ;  let  the  bells  ring 
and  the  children  cry,  — determined  to  make 

a   day  Of  it.  WALDEN,  p.  105. 

seek  to  Let    us    settle    ourselves,   and 

through  work  and  wedge  our  feet  down- 
reaiity.  ward  through  the  mud  and  slush 
of  opinion  and  prejudice  and  tradition  and 
delusion  and  appearance,  that  alluvion 
which  covers  the  globe,  through  Paris  and 
London,  through  New  York  and  Boston 
and  Concord,  through  church  and  state, 
through  poetry  and  philosophy  and  reli 
gion,  till  we  come  to  a  hard  bottom  and 
rocks  in  place,  which  we  can  call  reality. 

WALDEN,  p.  105. 


Use  of  the          The  intellect   is  a  cleaver;    it 
intellect.       discerns  and  rifts  its  way  into  the 


2O        SELECTIONS  FROM  THOREAU. 

secret  of  things.  I  do  not  wish  to  be  any 
more  busy  with  my  hands  than  is  neces 
sary.  My  head  is  hands  and  feet.  I  feel 
all  my  best  faculties  concentrated  in  it. 

WALDEN,  p.  ic6. 

The  shallow        Time  is  but  the  stream   I  go 

stream  of  .  . 

time.  a-nshmg  in.      I  drink  at  it ;  but 

while  I  drink,  I  see  the  sandy  bottom  and 
detect  how  shallow  it  is.  Its  thin  current 
slides  away,  but  eternity  remains.  I  would 
drink  deeper,  —  fish  in  the  sky,  whose  bot 
tom  is  pebbly  with  stars.  WALDEN,  P.  106. 

Mortality  In   accumulating   property   for 

and  im-  . 

mortality.  ourselves  or  our  posterity,  in 
founding  a  family  or  a  state,  or  acquiring 
fame  even,  we  are  mortal  ;  but  in  dealing 
with  truth  we  are  immortal,  and  need  fear 
no  change  nor  accident.  WALDEN,  p.  ios. 

HOW  to  read  The  heroic  books,  even  if 
books6™'  printed  in  the  character  of  our 
mother  tongue,  will  always  be  in  a  language 
dead  to  degenerate  times  ;  and  we  must 
laboriously  seek  the  meaning  of  each  word 
and  line,  conjecturing  a  larger  sense  than 


SELECTIONS  FROM   THOREAU.        21 

common  use  permits,  out  of  what  wisdom 
and  valor  and  generosity  we  have. 

WALUKN,  p.  109. 

what  are  Men  sometimes  speak  as  if  the 

sics"  ?  study  of  the  classics  would  at 
length  make  way  for  more  modern  and 
practical  studies  ;  but  the  adventurous  stu 
dent  will  always  study  classics,  in  whatever 
language  they  may  be  written,  and  however 
ancient  they  may  be.  For  what  are  the 
classics  but  the  noblest  recorded  thoughts 
of  men  ?  They  are  the  only  oracles  which 
are  not  decayed,  and  there  are  such  an 
swers  to  the  most  modern  inquiry  in  them 
as  Delphi  and  Dodona  never  gave. 

WALDEN,  p.  no. 


How  true  T°  read  We]1>  ~  that  is'   t<D 

should  be  true  books  in  a  true  spirit,  —  is  a 
noble  exercise,  and  one  that  will 
task  the  reader  more  than  any  exercise 
which  the  customs  of  the  day  esteem.  It 
requires  a  training  such  as  the  athletes 
underwent,  the  steady  intention  almost  of 
the  whole  life  to  this  object.  Books  must 
be  read  as  deliberately  and  reservedly  as 
they  were  written.  WALDEN,  P.  no. 


22         SELECTIONS  FROM  THOREAU. 

Living  in  We  should   be   blessed   if   we 

the  present.      jjve(j    jn    the    present    always>   and 

took  advantage  of  every  accident  that  be 
fell  us,  like  the  grass  which  confesses  the 
influence  of  the  slightest  dew  that  falls  on 
it ;  and  did  not  spend  our  time  in  atoning 
for  the  neglect  of  past  opportunities,  which 
we  call  doing  our  duty.  We  loiter  in  win 
ter  while  it  is  already  spring.  WALDEN.  P-  336- 

The  in-  In  a  pleasant   spring  morning 

Spring.  all  men's  sins  are  forgiven.  Such 
a  day  is  a  truce  to  vice.  While  such  a  sun 
holds  out  to  burn,  the  vilest  sinner  may 
return.  Through  our  own  recovered  inno 
cence  we  discern  the  innocence  of  our 

neighbors.  WALDBN,  p.  336. 

wiidness.  We  need  the  tonic  of  wild- 

ness,  —  to  wade  sometimes  in  marshes 
where  the  bittern  and  the  meadow -hen 
lurk,  and  hear  the  booming  of  the  snipe. 
At  the  same  time  that  we  are  earnest  to 
explore  and  learn  all  things,  we  require 
that  all  things  be  mysterious  and  inexplor- 
able,  — that  land  and  sea  be  infinitely  wild. 

WALDEN,  p.  339. 


SELECTIONS  FROM   THOREAU.  2$ 

The  glory  of       Be  B.  Columbus  to  whole  new 

the  realm  .  .  ,  .    .   . 

within.  continents  and  worlds  within  you, 
opening  new  channels,  not  of  trade,  but  of 
thought.  Every  man  is  the  lord  of  a 
realm  beside  which  the  earthly  empire  of 
the  Czar  is  but  a  petty  state,  a  hummock 

left  by  the  ice.  WALDEN,  p.  343- 

Know  If  you  would   learn   to    speak 

all  tongues  and  conform  to  the 
customs  of  all  nations,  if  you  would  travel 
farther  than  all  travellers,  be  naturalized  in 
all  climes,  and  cause  the  Sphinx  to  dash 
her  head  against  a  stone,  even  obey  the 
precept  of  the  old  philosopher,  and  Explore 

thyself.  WALDEN,  p.  344- 

The universe  l  learned  this,  at  least,  by  my 
ourhigTelt0  experiment  :  that  if  one  advances 
confidently  in  the  direction  of  his 
dreams,  and  endeavors  to  live  the  life 
which  he  has  imagined,  he  will  meet  with 
a  success  unimagined  in  common  hours. 
In  proportion  as  he  simplifies  his  life,  the 
laws  of  the  universe  will  appear  less  com 
plex,  and  solitude  will  not  be  solitude,  nor 
poverty  poverty,  nor  weakness  weakness. 

WALDEN,  p.  346. 


24        SELECTIONS  FROM  THOREAU. 

Realize  ^  you  nave  built  castles  in  the 

your  dream.      ^    your  work  need    not    be    lost  J 

that  is  where  they  should  be.  Now  put 
the  foundations  under  them.  WALDEN,  P.  346. 

Extrava-  I   desire  to  speak   somewhere 

gance  of 

expression.  witJioiit  bounds,  —  like  a  man  in  a 
waking  moment,  to  men  in  waking  mo 
ments  ;  for  I  am  convinced  that  I  cannot 
exaggerate  enough  even  to  lay  the  founda 
tion  of  a  true  expression.  Who  that  has 
heard  a  strain  of  music  feared  then  lest  he 
should  speak  extravagantly  any  more  for 

ever  ?  WALDEN,  p.  347. 

The  words  which  express  our 

Indefinite 

words  may     faith  and  piety  are  not  definite  ; 

be  most  *          J 


significant.  vet  \^Qj  are  significant  and  fra 
grant,  like  frankincense,  to  superior  na 

tures.  WALDEN,  p.  347. 

step  to  the          If  a  man  does  not  keep  pace 

music  you  . 

hear.  with  his   companions,  perhaps  it 

is  because  he  hears  a  different  drummer. 
Let  him  step  to  the  music  which  he  hears, 
however  measured  or  far  away.  It  is  not 
important  that  he  should  mature  as  soon 
as  an  apple-tree  or  an  oak.  Shall  he  turn 
his  spring  into  summer  ?  WALDEN,  P.  34s. 


SELECTIONS  FROM  THOREAU.          2$ 
Aim  ever  at        ^  ^e  condition  of  things  which 

the  highest.      we  were  ma(Je  for  is  not  yet)  what 

were  any  reality  which  we  can  substitute  ? 
We  will  not  be  shipwrecked  on  a  vain  real 
ity.  Shall  we  with  pains  erect  a  heaven  of 
blue  glass  over  ourselves,  though  when  it 
is  done  we  shall  be  sure  to  gaze  still  at  the 
true  ethereal  heaven  far  above,  as  if  the 
former  were  not  ?  WALDEN,  P.  349. 

Live  for  that       ^n  an  imperfect  work  time  is 

whkh'b0      an  ingredient,  but  into  a  perfect 

work  time  does  not  enter. 

WALDEN,  p.  349. 

why  we  are        No  face  which  we  can  give  to  a 

£T7a°uJy  matter  will  stead  us  so  well  at 
position.  last  ag  the  truth_  Thig  alone 

wears  well.  For  the  most  part,  we  are  not 
where  we  are,  but  in  a  false  position. 
Through  an  infirmity  of  our  natures,  we 
suppose  a  case,  and  put  ourselves  into  it, 
and  hence  are  in  two  cases  at  the  same 
time,  and  it  is  doubly  difficult  to  get  out. 

WALDEN,  p.  350. 


The  sim-  In    sane   moments   we   regard 

truth.  only  the  facts,  the  case  that  is. 


26        SELECTIONS  FROM  TIIOREAU. 

Say  what  you  have  to  say,  not  what  you 
ought.  Any  truth  is  better  than  make- 
believe.  WALDBN,  p.  350. 

Make  the  Love  your  lif  e,  poor  as  it  is,  — 

best  of  your  . 

own  life.  meet  it  and  live  it  ;  do  not  shun 
it  and  call  it  hard  names.  It  is  not  so  bad 
as  you  are.  It  looks  poorest  when  you  are 
richest.  The  fault-finder  will  find  faults 
even  in  paradise.  WALDEN,  p.  35o. 

Poverty  You  may  perhaps    have   some 

need  not  ,  .....  . 

take  from  us  pleasant,  thrilling,  glorious  hours, 

the  purest  . 

enjoyments,  even  in  a  poor-house.  1  he  set 
ting  sun  is  reflected  from  the  windows  of 
the  alms-house  as  brighly  as  from  the  rich 
man's  abode  ;  the  snow  melts  before  its 
door  as  early  in  the  spring.  WALDEN,  P.  35o. 

Dishonesty  Most  think  they  are  above  being 
dependence,  supported  by  the  town ;  but  it 
oftener  happens  that  they  are  not  above 
supporting  themselves  by  dishonest  means, 
which  should  be  more  disreputable. 

WALDEN,  p.  351. 


SELECTIONS  FROM  THOREAU.       2"J 

Humility  Do  not  seek  so  anxiously  to  be 

souicmosrehe  developed,  to  subject  yourself  to 
than  culture.  many  jnfluences  to  be  played  on  ; 

it  is  all  dissipation.  Humility,  like  dark 
ness,  reveals  the  heavenly  lights.  The 
shadows  of  poverty  and  meanness  gather 
around  us,  "  and,  lo !  creation  widens  to 

OUr  View."  WALDEN,  p.  351. 


wealth  does       We  are  often  reminded  that,  if 

not  help  in 

our  pursuit     there  were  bestowed  on  us  the 

of  the  , 

highest.  wealth  of  Croesus,  our  aims  must 
still  be  the  same,  and  our  means  essen 
tially  the  Same.  WALDEN,  p.  351. 

Advantage  If  7OU  are  restricted  in  your 
of  poverty.  range  by  poverty,  if  you  cannot 
buy  books  and  newspapers,  for  instance, 
you  are  but  confined  to  the  most  signifi 
cant  and  vital  experiences  ;  you  are  com 
pelled  to  deal  with  the  material  which 
yields  the  most  sugar  and  the  most  starch. 

WALDEN,  p.  351. 

Money  not  Superfluous  wealth  can  buy  su- 
for  the  soul,  perflultics  only.  Money  is  not 
required  to  buy  one  necessary  of  the  soul. 

WALDEN,  p.  352. 


28  SELECTIONS  FROM  THOREAU. 

A  person  *    ^OVe     tO    Weign>     to    Settle,     tO 

onTif^wn  gravitate  toward  that  which  most 
path.  strongly  and  rightfully  attracts 

me  ;  —  not  hang  by  the  beam  of  the  scale 
and  try  to  weigh  less,  —  not  suppose  a  case, 
but  take  the  case  that  is  ;  to  travel  the 
only  path  I  can,  and  that  on  which  no 
power  can  resist  me.  WALDEN,  p.  352. 

Fidelity  in  Drive  a  nail  home  and  clinch  it 
so  faithfully  that  you  can  wake 
up  in  the  night  and  think  of  your  work 
with  satisfaction,  —  a  work  at  which  you 
would  not  be  ashamed  to  invoke  the  Muse. 
So  will  help  you  God,  and  so  only.  Every 
nail  driven  should  be  as  another  rivet  in 
the  machine  of  the  universe,  you  carrying 

On  the  WOrk.  WALDEN,  p.  353- 

Hospitaiity         I  sat  at  a  table  where  were  rich 

in  manners,      r         ,,..,,  , 

not  in  the      rood  and  wine  in  abundance,   and 

"entertain- 

ment."  I  went  away  hungry  from  the  in 
hospitable  board.  The  hospitality  was  as 
cold  as  the  ices.  .  .  .  The  style,  the  house 
and  grounds  and  "entertainment,"  pass  for 
nothing  with  me.  I  called  on  the  king,  but 
he  made  me  wait  in  his  hall,  and  conducted 
like  a  man  incapacitated  for  hospitality. 


SELECTIONS  FROM   THOREAU.       29 

There  was  a  man  in  my  neighborhood  who 
lived  in  a  hollow  tree.  His  manners  were 
truly  regal.  I  should  have  done  better  had 

I  Called  On  him.  WALDEN,  p.  353. 

workessen-  How  long  shall  we  sit  in  our 
acter.  porticoes  practicing  idle  and  mus 

ty  virtues,  which  any  work  would  make  im 
pertinent  ?  As  if  one  were  to  begin  the 
day  with  long-suffering,  and  hire  a  man  to 
hoe  his  potatoes  ;  and  in  the  afternoon  go 
forth  to  practice  Christian  meekness  and 
charity  with  goodness  aforethought ! 

WALDEN,  p.  354. 

"More day         Only  that  day  dawns  to  which 

we  are  awake.      There    is   more 

day  to  dawn.     The  sun  is  but  a  morning 

Star.  WALDEN,  p.  357. 


The  vk-        Say  not  that  Caesar  was  victorious, 
character.          With  toil  and  strife  who  stormed 

the  House  of  Fame  ; 
In  other  sense  this  youth  was  glorious, 
Himself  a  kingdom  wheresoe'er  he  came. 

WBEK,  p.  276. 


The  heart  is  forever  inexperienced. 

WEEK,  p.  278. 


3O          SELECTIONS  FROM  THOREAU. 
Friendship         There  is  on  the  earth  no  insti- 

a  thing  out-  .  .  . 

side  of  hu-     tution  which  friendship  has    es- 

man  institu 
tions,  tablished  ;  it  is  not  taught  by  any 

religion  ;  no  scripture  contains  its  maxims. 

WEEK,  p.  280. 


Friendship         No  word  is  oftener  on  the  lips 

the  dream  . 

of  ail.  or  men  than  "  friendship,    and  in 

deed  no  thought  is  more  familiar  to  their 
aspirations.  All  men  are  dreaming  of  it, 
and  its  drama,  which  is  always  a  tragedy, 
is  enacted  daily.  It  is  the  secret  of  the  uni 
verse  WEEK,  p.  281. 

The  actual  ^  ls  equally  impossible  to  for- 
sug^on  a  get  our  friends,  and  to  make 
of  the  ideal,  them  answer  to  our  ideal.  When 
they  say  farewell,  then  indeed  we  begin  to 
keep  them  company.  How  often  we  find 
ourselves  turning  our  backs  on  our  actual 
friends,  that  we  may  go  and  meet  their 
ideal  cousins  !  WKEK'  P-  28'- 

A  fnend  Even  the  utmost  good  will  and 

the  soul.  harmony  and  practical  kindness 
are  not  sufficient  for  friendship,  for  friends 
do  not  live  in  harmony,  merely,  as  some 
say,  but  in  melody.  We  do  not  wish  for 


SELECTIONS  FROM  THOREAU.         31 

friends  to  feed  and  clothe  our  bodies,  — 
neighbors  are  kind  enough  for  that,  —  but 
to  do  the  like  office  to  our  spirits.  For 
this,  few  are  rich  enough,  however  well 
disposed  they  may  be.  WEEK,  P.  282. 

A  Wend,          Think   of   the    importance    of 

the  true  ....  , 

educator.  friendship  in  the  education  of 
men.  It  will  make  a  man  honest  ;  it  will 
make  him  a  hero  ;  it  will  make  him  a  saint. 
It  is  the  state  of  the  just  dealing  with  the 
just,  the  magnanimous  with  the  magnani 
mous,  the  sincere  with  the  sincere,  man 
with  man.  WEEK,  11.283. 

The  friend         All  the  abuses  which  are  the 

the  only  radi-  r  -11  1-1 

cai reformer,  object  or  retorm  with  the  philan- 
thropist,  the  statesman,  and  the  house 
keeper,  are  unconsciously  amended  in  the 
intercourse  of  friends.  WEEK,  P.  283. 

It  takes  two  to  speak  the  truth,  —  one 
to  speak,  and  another  to  hear.     WEEK,  p.  283. 

Men  ask  too        ^n  our  daily  intercourse  with 
no'biTdeait'6  men>  our  nobler  faculties  are  dor 
mant  and  suffered  to  rust.     None 
will  pay  us  the  compliment  to  expect  no- 


32         SELECTIONS  FROM  THOREAU. 

bleness  from  us.  We  ask  our  neighbor  to 
surfer  himself  to  be  dealt  with  truly,  sin 
cerely,  nobly ;  but  he  answers  no  by  his 
deafness.  He  does  not  even  hear  this 
prayer.  WEEK,  P.  284. 

society  con-  The  state  does  not  demand 
tent  with  a  justice  of  its  members,  but  thinks 


too  narrow 


that  it  succeeds  very  well  with 
the  least  degree  of  it,  hardly  more  than 
rogues  practice ;  and  so  do  the  family  and 
the  neighborhood.  What  is  commonly 
called  friendship  is  only  a  little  more  honor 
among  rogues.  WEEK,  P.  284. 

Hearty  truth       Between  whom  there  is  hearty 

is  one  with  .  . 

love.  truth  there  is  love ;  and  m  pro 

portion  to  our  truthfulness  and  confidence 
in  one  another,  our  lives  are  divine  and 
miraculous,  and  answer  to  our  ideal. 

WEEK,  p.  284. 

The  purest  There  are  passages  of  affection 
g^mpseof  in  our  intercourse  with  mortal 
men  and  women,  such  as  no  pro 
phecy  had  taught  us  to  expect,  which  trans 
cend  our  earthly  life  and  anticipate  heaven 

for  US.  WEEK,  p.  284. 


SELECTIONS   FROM  THOREAU.        33 

Estrange-  Between  two  by  nature  alike 
and  fitted  to  sympathize,  there  is 
no  veil,  and  there  can  be  no  obstacle. 
Who  are  the  estranged  ?  Two  friends  ex 
plaining.  WINTER,  p.  i. 


Friends  are        The   books    for  young   people 

not  selected. 


tion  of  friends  ;  it  is  because  they  really 
have  nothing  to  say  about  friends.  They 
mean  associates  and  confidants  merely.  .  .  . 
Friendship  takes  place  between  those  who 
have  an  affinity  for  one  another,  and  is  a 
perfectly  natural  and  inevitable  result.  No 
professions  nor  advances  will  avail. 

WEEK,  p.  285. 

Friends  not  Impatient  and  uncertain  lovers 
pleach  think  that  they  must  say  or  do 
something  kind  whenever  they 
meet  ;  they  must  never  be  cold.  But  they 
who  are  friends  do  not  do  what  they 
think  they  must,  but  what  they  must.  Even 
their  friendship  is,  in  one  sense,  a  sublime 
phenomenon  to  them.  WEEK,  P.  285. 


Friends  help       The  f  riend  asks  no  return  but 

foafcties°tthers    that   his    friend   will    religiously 

accept  and  wear  and  not  disgrace 


34        SELECTIONS  FROM  THOREAU. 

his  apotheosis  of  him.  They  cherish  each 
other's  hopes.  They  are  kind  to  each 
other's  dreams.  WEEK,  p.  286. 


Between  No  such  affront  can  be  offered 

goodwill  is     to  a  friend  as  a  conscious  good- 
not"^'      will,  a  friendliness  which  is  not  a 
necessity  of  the  friend's  nature. 

WEEK,  p.  286. 

Friendship  is  no  respecter  of  sex ;  and 
perhaps  it  is  more  rare  between  the  sexes 
than  between  two  of  the  same  sex. 

WEEK,  p.  287. 

A  hero's  love  is  as  delicate  as  a  maiden's. 

WEEK,  p.  287. 

My  friend  is  that  one  whom  I  can  as 
sociate  with  my  choicest  thought. 

WEEK,  p.  288. 


The  toiera-         Beware  lest  thy  friend  learn  at 

tion  of  faults     .  .  r      MI.  r 

an  obstacle  last  to  tolerate  one  frailty  of 
ship"6"'  thine,  and  so  an  obstacle  be  raised 
to  the  progress  of  thy  love.  WEBK,  P.  288. 


SELECTIONS  FROM  THOREAU.        35 

The  purest  Friendship  is  never  established 
!hee'mosjpun-  as  an  understood  relation.  Do 

conscious.          y()u    ^emand    that     J    be    less  your 

friend  that  you  may  know  it  ?      WEEK,  P.  288. 

Genuine  Wait  not  till  I  invite  thee,  but 

invitation,  observe  that  I  am  glad  to  see 
thee  when  thou  comest.  .WEEK,  P  289. 

Where  my  friend  lives,  there  are  all 
riches  and  every  attraction,  and  no  slight 
obstacle  can  keep  me  from  him.  WEEK,  P.  289. 

The  language  of  friendship  is  not  words, 
but  meanings.  It  is  an  intelligence  above 

language.  WEEK,  p.  289. 

Friendship  It  is  one  proof  of  a  man's  fit- 
wisdom  ness  for  friendship  that  he  is 

as  well  as  .... 

tenderness,  able  to  do  without  that  which  is 
cheap  and  passionate.  A  true  friendship 
is  as  wise  as  it  is  tender.  WEEK,  P.  29o. 


Friendship         When  the  friend  comes  out  of 
conscious       his  heathenism  and  superstition, 
and  breaks  his  idols,  being  con 
verted  by  the  precepts  of  a  newer  testa- 


36        SELECTIONS  FROM  THOREAU. 

ment ;  when  he  forgets  his  mythology,  and 
treats  his  friend  like  a  Christian,  or  as  he 
can  afford,  —  then  friendship  ceases  to  be 
friendship,  and  becomes  charity  ;  that  prin 
ciple  which  established  the  almshouse  is" 
now  beginning  with  its  charity  at  home, 
and  establishing  an  almshouse  and  pauper 
relations  there.  WEEK,  P.  292. 

Friendship  A  oase  friendship  is  of  a  nar- 
imwMt'of  rowing  and  exclusive  tendency, 
humanity.  but  ^  no\A&  one  is  not  exclusive ; 
its  very  superfluity  and  dispersed  love  is 
the  humanity  which  sweetens  society,  and 
sympathizes  with  foreign  nations  ;  for, 
though  its  foundations  are  private,  it  is 
in  effect  a  public  affair  and  a  public  advan 
tage,  and  the  friend,  more  than  the  father 
of  a  family,  deserves  well  of  the  state. 

WEEK,  p.  293. 

Are  any  The  only  danger  in  friendship 

enough  for  is  that  it  will  end.  It  is  a  deli- 
friendship?  cate  plant,  though  a  native.  The 
least  unworthiness,  even  if  it  be  unknown 
to  one's  self,  vitiates  it.  Let  the  friend 
know  that  those  faults  which  he  observes 
in  his  friend  his  own  faults  attract.  .  .  . 


SELECTIONS  FROM   THOREAU.         37 

Perhaps  there  are  none  charitable,  none 
disinterested,  none  wise,  noble,  and  heroic 
enough,  for  a  true  and  lasting  friendship. 

WEEK,  p.  294. 

Friends  do         I  sometimes   hear    my   friends 

not  ask  to  be  r        .         , 

appreciated,  complain  finely  that  1  do  not  ap 
preciate  their  fineness.  I  shall  not  tell 
them  whether  I  do  or  not.  As  if  they  ex 
pected  a  vote  of  thanks  for  every  fine 
thing  which  they  uttered  or  did  !  Who 
knows  but  it  was  finely  appreciated  ?  It 
may  be  that  your  silence  was  the  finer 

thing  Of  the  tWO.  WEEK,  p.  294. 

Between  In  human  intercourse  the  tra- 

riknceis       gecty  begins,   not   when  there  is 
)od-    misunderstanding    about    words, 
but  when  silence  is  not  understood.    Then 
there  can  never  be  an  explanation. 

WEEK,  p.  294. 


The  reserve  often  forbear  to  confess  our 

of  affection.      feelJnS)    not    from        j-Jde,   but    for 


fear  that  we  could  not  continue  to  love  the 
one  who  required  us  to  give  such  proof  of 

affection.  WEEK,  p.  295. 


38        SELECTIONS  FROM   THOREAU. 

A  Wend  For  a  companion,  I  require  one 

one'sshigshest  wno  wi^  make  an  equal  demand 


aspirations.       Qn  me  my  Qwn  genms> 

a  one  will  always  be  rightly  tolerant.  It 
is  suicide  and  corrupts  good  manners  to 
welcome  any  less  than  this.  I  value  and 
trust  those  who  love  and  praise  my  aspira 
tion  rather  than  my  performance.  If  you 
would  not  stop  to  look  at  me,  but  look 
whither  I  am  looking  and  farther,  then  my 
education  could  not  dispense  with  your 
company.  WEEK,  P.  296. 

I  cannot  leave  my  sky 

For  thy  caprice  ; 
True  love  would  soar  as  high 

As  heaven  is. 

The  eagle  would  not  brook 

Her  mate  thus  won, 
Who  trained  his  eye  to  look 

Beneath  the  sun.  WEEK,  P.  297. 

Friendship  Confucius  said,  "To  contract 
what  tawgh-  ties  of  friendship  with  any  one, 
estineach.  jg  to  contract  friendship  with 

his  virtue.  There  ought  not  to  be  any 
other  motive  in  friendship."  WEEK,  P.  298. 


SELECTIONS  FROM   THOKEAU.        39 

The  faults  of  ^  *s  impossible  to  say  all  that 
mus!rbeniost  we  think,  even  to  our  truest 
friend.  We  may  bid  him  fare 
well  forever  sooner  than  complain,  for  our 
complaint  is  too  well  grounded  to  be  ut 
tered.  WEEK,  p.  299. 

Friends  The   constitutional   differences 

sUen't136  which  always  exist,  and  are  ob- 
sdmdonaY  stacles  to  a  perfect  friendship, 
are  forever  a  forbidden  theme  to 
the  lips  of  friends.  They  advise  by  their 
whole  behavior.  Nothing  can  reconcile 
them  but  love.  WEEK,  p.  299. 


The  necessity  itself  for  explanation,  — 
what  explanation  will  atone  for  that  ? 

WEEK,  p.  299. 

The  real  True  love  does  not  quarrel  for 

differences  ,  •     ,  , 

between        slight  reasons,  —  such  mistakes  as 

friends 

cannot  be       mutual  acquaintances  can  explain 

explained 

away.  away  ;   but,   alas,  however   slight 

the  apparent  cause,  only  for  adequate  and 
fatal  and  everlasting  reasons,  which  can 
never  be  set  aside.  Its  quarrel,  if  there  is 
any,  is  ever  recurring,  notwithstanding  the 
beams  of  affection  which  invariably  come 
to  <rild  its  tears.  WEEK,  p.  3oo. 


4O        SELECTIONS  FROM  THOREAU. 

We  must  accept  or  refuse  one  another 
as  we  are.  I  could  tame  a  hyena  more 
easily  than  my  friend.  WEEK,  p.  3oo. 

NO  real  we  Ignorance  and  bungling,  with 
without  love.  love>  are  better  than  wisdom  and 

skill  without.  There  may  be  courtesy, 
there  may  be  even  temper  and  wit  and 
talent  and  sparkling  conversation,  there 
may  be  good-will  even,  and  yet  the  hu- 
manest  and  divinest  faculties  pine  for  ex 
ercise.  Our  life  without  love  is  like  coke 
and  ashes.  WEEK,  p.  300. 


The  inward 

dawn. 


Nature  doth  have  her  dawn  each 


But  mine  are  far  between  ; 

Content,  I  cry,  for  sooth  to  say, 

Mine  brightest  are,  I  ween. 

For  when  my  sun  doth  deign  to  rise, 
Though  it  be  her  noontide, 

Her  fairest  field  in  shadow  lies, 
Nor  can  my  light  abide.    WEEK,  P.  301. 

Friendship  As  !  love  nature,  as  I  love  sing- 
oF™\hure°ve  ing  birds,  and  gleaming  stubble, 
harmonize.  an(j  flowjng  rivers,  and  morning 


SELECTIONS  FROM  THOREAU.        41 

and  evening,  and  summer  and  winter,  I  love 
thee,  my  friend.  WEEK,  P.  302. 


The  Wend         Even  the  death  of  friends  will 

leaves  the          .  ,  .      .       , . 

sweetest        inspire  us  as  much  as  their  lives. 

consolation  . 

at  his  death.  They  will  leave  consolation  to  the 
mourners,  as  the  rich  leave  money  to  de 
fray  the  expenses  of  their  funerals,  and 
their  memories  will  be  incrusted  over  with 
sublime  and  pleasing  thoughts,  as  monu 
ments  of  other  men  are  overgrown  with 

mOSS.  WEEK,  p.  302. 

Two  solitary  stars,  — 
Unmeasured  systems  far 
Between  us  roll, 

But  by  our  conscious  light  we  are 
Determined  to  one  pole.       WEEK,  P.  304. 


civility  Lying  on  lower  levels  is  but  a 

friends.         trivial  offense  compared  with  ci 
vility    and    compliments    on    the   level    of 

friendship.  WINTER,  p.  428. 


Exalting  We  are  all  ordinarily  in  a  state 

mifsic.0         of  desperation.     Such  is  our  life, 
it  ofttimes  drives  us  to  suicide.     To  how 


42        SELECTIONS  FROM  THOREAU. 

many,  perhaps  to  most,  life  is  barely  toler 
able  ;  and  if  it  were  not  for  the  fear  of  death 
or  of  dying,  what  a  multitude  would  imme 
diately  commit  suicide !  But  let  us  hear  a 
strain  of  music,  and  we  are  at  once  adver 
tised  of  a  life  which  no  man  had  told  us 
of,  which  no  preacher  preaches. 

WINTER,  p.  181. 

No  warder  at  the  gate 
Can  let  the  friendly  in, 
But,  like  the  sun,  o'er  all 
He  will  the  castle  win, 
And  shine  along  the  wall. 

WBBK,  p.  305. 

Implacable  is  Love  : 
Foes  may  be  bought  or  teased 
From  their  hostile  intent, 
But  he  goes  unappeased 
Who  is  on  kindness  bent. 

WEEK,  p.  305. 

Simplify  When  the  mathematician  would 

the  problem  . 

of  life.  solve  a  difficult  problem,  he  first 
frees  the  equation  of  all  encumbrances,  and 
reduces  it  to  its  simplest  terms.  So  sim 
plify  the  problem  of  life,  distinguish  the 


SELECTIONS  FROM   THOKEAU.         43 

necessary  and  the  real.     Probe  the  earth 
to  see  where  your  main  roots  run. 

LETTERS,  p.  43. 


our  faintest  This>  our  respectable  daily  life, 
fo^sS*  in  which  the  man  of  common 

est  reality.         ^^      ^       Englishman       of      the 

world,  stands  so  squarely,  and  on  which 
our  institutions  are  founded,  is  in  fact  the 
veriest  illusion,  and  will  vanish  like  the 
baseless  fabric  of  a  vision  ;  but  that  faint 
glimmer  of  reality  which  sometimes  illu 
minates  the  darkness  of  daylight  for  all 
men,  reveals  something  more  solid  and  en 
during  than  adamant,  which  is  in  fact  the 
corner-stone  of  the  world.  LETTERS,  P.  44 


Thereaiiza-        Men  cannot  conceive  of  a  state 

tion  of  .  .  . 

dreams.         of  things  so  fair  that  it  cannot 
be  realized.  LETTERS,  p.  44. 


We  never  have  a  fantasy  so  subtile  and 
ethereal,  but  that  talent  merely,  with  more 
resolution  and  faithful  persistency,  after  a 
thousand  failures,  might  fix  and  engrave  it 
in  distinct  and  enduring  words,  and  we 
should  see  that  our  dreams  are  the  solidest 

facts  that  We  knOVV.  LETTERS,  p.  43. 


44        SELECTIONS  FROM  THOREAU. 

What  can  be  expressed  in  words  can  be 
expressed  in  life.  LETTERS,  P.  45. 


we  can  My  actual  life  is  a  fact,  in  view 

respect  our  . 

aspirations,     ot   which  1   have  no  occasion  to 

not  our 

actual  lives,    congratulate  myself ;  but  for  my 
faith  and  aspiration  I  have  respect. 

LETTERS,  p.  45. 


I  love  reform  better  than  its  modes. 
There  is  no  history  of  how  bad  became 

better.  LETTERS,  p.  45. 

As  for  positions,  combinations,  and  de 
tails,  —  what  are  they  ?  In  clear  weather, 
when  we  look  into  the  heavens,  what  do 
we  see  but  the  sky  and  the  sun  ? 

LETTERS,  p.  45. 

individual          If  y°u  would  convince  a  man 

louSeT"    that   he    does    wrong,    do    right. 

But  do  not  care  to  convince  him. 

Men  will  believe  what  they  see.     Let  them 

See.  LETTERS,  p.  46. 

,<Dowhat         Pursue,   keep   up   with,    circle 

round  and  round  your  life,  as  a 

dog  does  his  master's  chaise.     Do  what  you 


SELECTIONS  FROM  THOREAU.        45 

love.     Know  your  own  bone ;  gnaw  at  it, 
bury  it,  unearth  it,  and  gnaw  it  still. 

LETTERS,  p.  46. 


"if  ye  be          Aim  above  morality.     Be  not 

led  by  the  .         . 

spirit,  ye  simply  good  \  DQ  good  for  some- 
denheiaw."  thing.  All  fables,  indeed,  have 
their  morals;  but  the  innocent  enjoy  the 

StOry.  LETTERS,  p.  46. 


Direct  ap-          Let  nothing  come  between  you 

peal  to  the 

highest.  and  the  light.  Respect  men  as 
brothers  only.  When  you  travel  to  the 
Celestial  City,  carry  no  letter  of  introduc 
tion.  When  you  knock,  ask  to  see  God,  — 
none  of  the  servants.  LETTERS,  P.  4s. 

In  what  concerns  you  much,  do  not  think 
you  have  companions  ;  know  that  you  are 
alone  in  the  world.  LETTERS,  p.  46. 

The  true  ^  have  tasted  but  little  bread 

in  my  life.  It  has  been  mere 
grub  and  provender  for  the  most  part.  Of 
bread  that  nourished  the  brain  and  the 
heart,  scarcely  any.  There  is  absolutely 
none,  even  on  the  tables  of  the  rich. 

LETTERS,  p.  47. 


46         SELECTIONS  FROM  THOREAU. 

The  delight  Some  men  go  a-hunting,  some 
earrningya  a-fishing,  some  a-gaming,  some 
to  war ;  but  none  have  so  pleas 
ant  a  time  as  they  who  in  earnest  seek  to 
earn  their  bread.  It  is  true  actually  as  it 
is  true  really  ;  it  is  true  materially  as  it  is 
true  spiritually,  that  they  who  seek  hon 
estly  and  sincerely,  with  all  their  hearts 
and  lives  and  strength,  to  earn  their  bread, 
do  earn  it,  and  it  is  sure  to  be  very  sweet 

tO  them.  LETTERS,  p.  48. 

A  very  little  bread,  —  a  very  few  crumbs 
are  enough,  if  it  be  of  the  right  quality,  for 
it  is  infinitely  nutritious.  Let  each  man, 
then,  earn  at  least  a  crumb  of  bread  for  his 
body  before  he  dies,  and  know  the  taste 
of  it,  —  that  it  is  identical  with  the  bread 
of  life,  and  that  they  both  go  down  at  one 

SWallOW.  LETTERS,  p.  48- 

Not  only  the  rainbow  and  sunset  are 
beautiful,  but  to  be  fed  and  clothed,  shel 
tered  and  warmed  aright,  are  equally  beau 
tiful  and  inspiring.  There  is  not  necessa 
rily  any  gross  and  ugly  fact  which  may  not 
be  eradicated  from  the  life  of  man. 

LETTERS,  p.  49. 


SELECTIONS  FROM  THOREAU.        47 

The  earnest        How  can  any  man  be  weak  who 

man  irre-  ,  .,   -        _, 

sistibie.  dares  to  be  at  all  ?  Even  the  ten- 
derest  plants  force  their  way  up  through  the 
hardest  earth,  and  the  crevices  of  rocks  ; 
but  a  man  no  material  power  can  resist. 
What  a  wedge,  what  a  beetle,  what  a  cata 
pult  is  an  earnest  man  !  What  can  resist 

him  ?  LETTERS,  p.  49. 


That  we  have  but  little  faith  is  not  sad, 
but  that  we  have  but  little  faithfulness. 
By  faithfulness  faith  is  earned. 

LETTERS,  p.  50. 

The  misery  When  once  we  fall  behind  our- 
encdeistobour~  selves,  there  is  no  accounting  for 
the  obstacles  that  rise  up  in  our 
path,  and  no  one  is  so  wise  as  to  advise, 
and  no  one  so  powerful  as  to  aid  us  while 
we  abide  on  that  ground.  Such  are  cursed 
with  duties,  and  the  neglect  of  their  duties. 
For  such  the  decalogue  was  made,  and 
other  far  more  voluminous  and  terrible 

COdeS.  LETTERS,  p.  50. 

cibg  to  Be  not  anxious  to  avoid  pov- 

the  thread  ,   .  i    i          r 

of  life.          erty.     In  this  way  the  wealth  of 
the   universe    may   be   securely   invested. 


48        SELECTIONS  FROM  THOREAU. 

What  a  pity  if  we  do  not  live  this  short 
time  according  to  the  laws  of  the  long 
time,  —  the  eternal  laws  !  ...  In  the 
midst  of  this  labyrinth  let  us  live  a  thread 

of  life.  LETTERS,  p.  52. 

The  laws  of  The  laws  of  earth  are  for  the 
heaveiThar-  feet>  or  inferior  man  ;  the  laws 
of  heaven  are  for  the  head,  or 
superior  man  ;  the  latter  are  the  former 
sublimed  and  expanded,  even  as  radii 
from  the  earth's  centre  go  on  diverging 

Space.  LETTERS,  p.  53. 


Happy  the  man  who  observes  the  heav 
enly  and  terrestrial  law  in  just  proportion  ; 
whose  every  faculty,  from  the  soles  of  his 
feet  to  the  crown  of  his  head,  obeys  the 
law  of  its  level  ;  who  neither  stoops  nor 
goes  on  tiptoe,  but  lives  a  balanced  life, 
acceptable  to  nature  and  to  God. 

LETTERS,  p.  53. 

Newspapers.  If  words  were  invented  to  con 
ceal  thought,  I  think  that  newspapers  are  a 
great  improvement  on  a  bad  invention. 
Do  not  surfer  your  life  to  be  taken  by 

newspapers.  LETTERS,  p.  56. 


SELECTIONS  FROM  THOREAU.        49 

Rest  for  the  When  we  are  weary  with  trav 
el,  we  lay  down  our  load  and  rest 
by  the  wayside.  So,  when  we  are  weary 
with  the  burden  of  life,  why  do  we  not  lay 
down  this  load  of  falsehoods  which  we  have 
volunteered  to  sustain,  and  be  refreshed  as 
never  mortal  was  ?  Let  the  beautiful  laws 
prevail.  Let  us  not  weary  ourselves  by 
resisting  them.  LETTERS,  P.  57. 


God  most  It  is  not  when  I  am  going  to 

truly  found  ...  .  T 

when  not       meet  him,  but  when    I    am  just 

consciously  .  . 

sought.  turning  away  and  leaving  him 
alone,  that  I  discover  that  God  is.  I  say, 
God.  I  am  not  sure  that  that  is  the  name. 
You  will  know  whom  I  mean.  LETTERS,  P.  ss. 


self  renun-  ^  f°r  a  nioment  we  make  way 
with  our  petty  selves,  wish  no  ill 
to  anything,  apprehend  no  ill,  cease  to  be 
but  as  the  crystal  which  reflects  a  ray,  — 
what  shall  we  not  reflect  !  What  a  uni 
verse  will  appear  crystallized  and  radiant 

US  !  LETTERS,  p.  58. 


The  muse         The  muse    should   lead  like  a 

should  lead,  .  -  ...  . 

the  under-     star  which  is  very  tar  oft  ;  but  that 

standing  . 

follow.          does  not  imply  that  we  are  to  tol- 
low  foolishly,  falling  into  sloughs  and  over 


5O        SELECTIONS  FROM  THOREAU. 

precipices,  for  it  is  not  foolishness,  but  un 
derstanding,  which  is  to  follow,  which  the 
muse  is  appointed  to  lead,  as  a  fit  guide  of 

a  fit  follower.  LETTERS,  p.  58. 

TOO  high  a  Men  make  a  great  ado  about 
nTbe^ad""  the  folly  of  demanding  too  much 

upon  life.          of     Hfe     (Qr     of    etemity?^    and     Of 

endeavoring  to  live  according  to  that 
demand.  It  is  much  ado  about  nothing. 
No  harm  ever  came  from  that  quarter. 

LETTERS,  p.  59. 

Danger  of         I  am  not  afraid  that  I  shall  ex- 

undervalu-  . 

ing  life.  aggerate  the  value  and  significance 
of  life,  but  that  I  shall  not  be  up  to  the 
occasion  which  it  is.  I  shall  be  sorry  to 
remember  that  I  was  there,  but  noticed 
nothing  remarkable,  —  not  so  much  as  a 
prince  in  disguise ;  lived  in  the  golden 
age  a  hired  man  ;  visited  Olympus  even, 
but  fell  asleep  after  dinner,  and  did  not 
hear  the  conversation  of  the  gods. 

LETTERS,  p.  59. 


The  kind  of  We,  demanding  news,  and  put- 
reaiiywant.  ting  up  with  suc/i  news  !  Is  it  a 
new  convenience,  or  a  new  accident,  or, 


SELECTIONS  FROM  THOREAU.  5  [ 

rather,  a  new  perception  of  the  truth  that 

We  want  ?  LETTERS,  p.  60. 

Divine  ex-  ^s  not  tne  attitude  of  expecta- 
pemtions.  tjon  SOmewhat  divine  ?  —  a  sort 
of  home-made  divineness  ?  Does  it  not 
compel  a  kind  of  sphere-music  to  attend  on 
it  ?  and  do  not  its  satisfactions  merge  at 
length,  by  insensible  degrees,  in  the  enjoy 

ment  of  the  thing  expected  ?        LETTERS,  p.  6:. 

Exalted  em-  Some  absorbing  employment  on 
pioyment.  vour  higher  ground,  —  your  up 
land  farm,  —  whither  no  cart-path  leads, 
but  where  you  mount  alone  with  your  hoe, 
—  where  the  life  everlasting  grows  ;  there 
you  raise  a  crop  which  needs  not  to  be 
brought  down  into  the  valley  to  a  market  ; 
which  you  barter  for  heavenly  products. 

LETTERS,  p.  61. 

Yield  not  to  Be  not  deterred  by  melancholy 
™heup-y  on  the  path  which  leads  to  im- 

wardpath. 


they  tasted  of  the  water  of  the  river  over 
which  they  were  to  go,  they  thought  it  tasted 
a  little  bitterish  to  the  palate,  but  it  proved 
sweeter  when  it  was  down.  LETTERS,  P.  63. 


52        SELECTIONS  FROM  THOREAU. 

AS  a  man  Our  thoughts  are  the  epochs  in 

thinketh,  so  _ .  , ,         ,  . 

is  he.  our  lives  ;    all    else    is    but   as  a 

journal  of  the  winds  that  blew  while  we 
were  here.  LETTERS,  p.  63. 

Our  ideal  It  is  not  easy  to  make  our  lives 

shames  our  ,  /• 

best  efforts,  respectable  by  any  course  01  ac 
tivity.  We  must  repeatedly  withdraw  into 
our  shells  of  thought,  like  the  tortoise, 
somewhat  helplessly  ;  yet  there  is  more 
than  philosophy  in  that.  LETTERS,  p.  64. 

Inward  If  I  should  turn  myself  inside 

poverty.  QU^   my  ragg  an(_j  meannesS  WOuld 

indeed  appear.  I  am  something  to  him 
that  made  me,  undoubtedly,  but  not  much 
to  any  other  that  he  has  made. 

LETTERS,  p.  64. 

He  who  As  for  missing  friends,  —  what 

genius  can-    if    we    do    miss     one    another  ? 

not  lose  his 

friends.  Have  we  not  agreed  on  a  rendez 
vous  ?  While  each  wanders  his  own  way 
through  the  wood,  without  anxiety,  ay,  with 
serene  joy,  though  it  be  on  his  hands  and 
knees,  over  rocks  and  fallen  trees,  he  can 
not  but  be  in  the  right  way.  There  is  no 

Wrong  Way  tO  him.  LETTERS,  p.  65. 


SELECTIONS  FROM   THOREAU.         53 

Friendship  A  man  who  missed  his  friend 
m  nature.  ^  a  {urn^  Went  on  buoyantly,  di 
viding  the  friendly  air,  and  humming  a  tune 
to  himself,  ever  and  anon  kneeling  with 
delight  to  study  each  lichen  in  his  path,  and 
scarcely  made  three  miles  a  day  for  friend 
ship.  LETTERS,  p.  65. 

Unconscious  l  am  glad  tO  knOW  that  T  am  aS 

much  to  any  mortal  as  a  persis 
tent  and  consistent  scarecrow  is  to  a  far 
mer,  —  such  a  bundle  of  straw  in  a  man's 
clothing  as  I  am,  with  a  few  bits  of  tin  to 
sparkle  in  the  sun  dangling  about  me,  as  if 
I  were  hard  at  work  there  in  the  field. 
However,  if  this  kind  of  life  saves  any 
man's  corn,  —  why,  he  is  the  gainer. 

LETTERS,  p.  68. 


The  best  I  am  not  afraid  you  will  flatter 

fsp§^Sn  ™e  as  long  as  you  know  what  I 
am,  as  well  as  what  I  think  or  aim 
to  be,  and  distinguish  between  these  two ; 
for  then  it  will  commonly  happen  that  if 
you  praise  the  last,  you  will  condemn  the 

first.  LETTERS,  p.  69. 


54        SELECTIONS  FROM  THOREAU. 

The  earnest        All  the  world  complain  now-a- 

not  hindered  ..          .     .    .  . 

by  trifles.  days  of  a  press  or  trivial  duties 
and  engagements,  which  prevents  their 
employing  themselves  on  some  higher 
ground  they  know  of  ;  but  undoubtedly,  if 
they  were  made  of  the  right  stuff  to  work 
on  that  higher  ground,  provided  they  were 
released  from  all  those  engagements,  they 
would  now  at  once  fulfill  the  superior  en 
gagement,  and  neglect  all  the  rest,  as  nar- 
urally  as  they  breathe.  LETTERS,  P.  7o. 

A  glorious  As  for  passing  through  any 
cann"tebee  great  and  glorious  experience, 
ehmd'  and  rising  above  it,  as  an  eagle 
might  fly  athwart  the  evening  sky  to  rise 
into  still  brighter  and  fairer  regions  of  the 
heavens,  I  cannot  say  that  I  ever  sailed 
so  creditably,  but  my  bark  ever  seemed 
thwarted  by  some  side  wind,  and  went  off 
over  the  edge,  and  now  only  occasionally 
tacks  back  toward  the  centre  of  that  sea 

again.  LETTERS,  p.  70. 

Hope  {or  I  have  outgrown  nothing  good, 

ourselves.  j    ^Q    nQ 


behind  by  whole  continents  of  virtue,  which 
should  have  been  passed  as  islands  in  my 


SELECTIONS  FROM  THOREAU.         55 

course  ;  but  I  trust  —  what  else  can  I  trust  ? 
—  that  with  a  stiff  wind,  some  Friday,  when 
I  have  thrown  some  of  my  cargo  over 
board,  I  may  make  up  for  all  that  distance 

lost.  LETTERS,  p.  71. 

wisdom  and  Man  is  continually  saying  to 
daTtolach  woman,  Why  will  you  not  be 
more  wise  ?  Woman  is  contin 
ually  saying  to  man,  Why  will  you  not  be 
more  loving  ?  It  is  not  in  their  wills  to  be 
wise  or  to  be  loving  ;  but,  unless  each  is 
both  wise  and  loving,  there  can  be  neither 

Wisdom  nor  love.  LETTERS,  p.  72. 


I  am  not  satisfied  with  ordinary 
windows.  I  must  have  a  true  sky-light, 
and  that  is  outside  the  village.  .  .  .  The 
man  I  meet  with  is  not  often  so  instructive 
as  the  silence  he  breaks.  This  stillness, 
solitude,  wildness  of  nature  is  a  kind  of 
thoroughwort  or  boneset  to  my  intellect. 
This  is  what  I  go  out  to  seek.  It  is  as  if 
I  always  met  in  those  places  some  grand, 
serene,  immortal,  infinitely  encouraging, 
though  invisible,  companion,  and  walked 
with  him.  There  at  last  my  nerves  are 
steadied,  my  senses  and  my  mind  do  their 

Office.  WINTER,  p.  133. 


56        SELECTIONS  FROM  THOREAU. 

The  human  The  lover  sees  in  the  glance  of 
his  beloved  the  same  beauty  that 
in  the  sunset  paints  the  western  skies.  It 
is  the  same  daimon  here  lurking  under  a 
human  eyelid  and  there  under  the  closing 
eyelids  of  the  day.  Here,  in  small  com 
pass,  is  the  ancient  and  natural  beauty  of 
evening  and  morning.  What  loving  astron 
omer  has  ever  fathomed  the  ethereal  depths 

Of  the  eye  ?  LETTERS,  p.  73- 


The  lover's  Perhaps  an  instinct  survives 
through  the  intensest  actual  love, 
which  prevents  entire  abandonment  of  de 
votion,  and  makes  the  most  ardent  lover  a 
little  reserved.  It  is  the  anticipation  of 
change.  For  the  most  ardent  lover  is  not 
the  less  practically  wise,  and  seeks  a  love 
which  will  last  forever.  LETTERS,  P.  73. 

The  rarity  Considering  how  few  poetical 
marriages,  friendships  there  are,  it  is  remark 
able  that  so  many  are  married.  It  would 
seem  as  if  men  yielded  too  easy  an  obedi 
ence  to  nature  without  consulting  their 
genius.  One  may  be  drunk  with  love 
without  being  any  nearer  to  finding  his 

mate,  LETTERS,  p.  74. 


SELECTIONS  FROM  THOREAU.         $/ 

Both  com-  ^  common  sense  had  been  con- 
divinenstnse  suited,  how  many  marriages  would 
consulted  in  never  have  taken  place  ;  if  uncom 
mon  or  divine  sense,  how  few 
marriages,  such  as  we  witness,  would  ever 
have  taken  place  !  LETTERS,  p.  74- 


Love  should       Our  love  may  be  ascending  or 

be  ascend-  .  TTT-I  •  i 

ing.  descending.     What  is  its  charac 

ter,  if  it  may  be  said  of  it,  — 

"  \Ve  must  respect  the  souls  above, 
But  only  those  below  we  lave." 

LETTERS,  p.  74. 

shun  a  t  Is  your  friend  such  a  one  that 

descending 

love.  an  increase  of  worth  on  your  part 

will  rarely  make  her  more  your  friend  ?  Is 
she  retained,  —  is  she  attracted,  —  by  more 
nobleness  in  you,  —  by  more  of  that  virtue 
which  is  peculiarly  yours  ;  or  is  she  indif 
ferent  and  blind  to  that  ?  Is  she  to  be 
flattered  and  won  by  your  meeting  her  on 
any  other  than  the  ascending  path  ?  Then 
duty  requires  that  you  separate  from  her. 

LETTERS,  p.  74. 


True  love          A  man  of  fine  perceptions  is 

most  clear-  ......  , 

sighted.        more  truly  feminine  than  a  merely 


58        SELECTIONS  FROM   THOREAU. 

sentimental  woman.  The  heart  is  blind  ; 
but  love  is  not  blind.  None  of  the  gods  is 
so  discriminating.  LETTERS,  p.  75. 

in  love  the  ^n  ^ove  an^  friendship  the  imag- 
JITusTnotte  ination  is  as  much  exercised  as 

offended. 


raged,  the  other  will  be  estranged.  It 
is  commonly  the  imagination  which  is 
wounded  first,  rather  than  the  heart,  —  it 
is  so  much  the  more  sensitive. 

LETTERS,  p.  75. 

Lovers  must       I    require   that    thou    knowest 

understand  . 

each  another  everything    without    being    told 

without  '  ° 

words.  anything.  I  parted  from  my  be 
loved  because  there  was  one  thing  which  I 
had  to  tell  her.  She  questioned  me.  She 
should  have  known  all  by  sympathy.  That 
I  had  to  tell  it  her  was  the  difference  be 
tween  us,  —  the  misunderstanding. 

LETTERS,  p.  76. 

The  lover          A  lover  never  hears  anything 

hears  things,  .  .  . 

not  words,  that  is  to/d,  for  that  is  commonly 
either  false  or  stale  ;  but  he  hears  things 
taking  place,  as  the  sentinels  heard  Trenck 


SELECTIONS  FROM  THOREAU.          59 

mining  in  the  ground,  and  thought  it  was 

moles.  LETTERS,  p.  76. 

Lovede.  If    to   chaffer   and   higgle   are 

Ctm'osVdi-      bad  in  trade,  they  are  much  worse 

in  love.      It  demands  directness 

as  of  an  arrOW.  LETTERS,  p.  77- 

The  true  The  lover  wants  no  partiality. 

n°otehide°hfs    He  says,  Be  so  kind  as  to  be  just. 
...   I  need  thy  hate  as  much  as 
thy  love.     Thou  wilt  not  repel  me  entirely 
when  thou  repellest  what  is  evil  in  me. 

LETTERS,  p.  77. 

Truthfulness.  It  is  not  enough  that  we  are 
truthful ;  we  must  cherish  and  carry  out 
high  purposes  to  be  truthful  about. 

LETTERS,  p.  78. 

NO  lower  en-  Commonly,  men  are  as  much 
STlhT  afraid  of  love  as  of  hate-  They 

way  of  love.      haye    lower    engagements.        They 

have  near  ends  to  serve.  They  have  not 
imagination  enough  to  be  thus  employed 
about  a  human  being,  but  must  be  cooper 
ing  a  barrel,  forsooth.  LETTERS,  P.  7s. 


60          SELECTIONS  FROM  THOREAU. 

NO  treasure  What  a  difference  whether,  in 
pared°wi?h  all  your  walks,  you  meet  only 
strangers,  or  in  one  house  is  one 
who  knows  you,  and  whom  you  know.  To 
have  a  brother  or  a  sister  !  To  have  a  gold 
mine  on  your  farm  !  To  find  diamonds  in 
the  gravel  heaps  before  your  door  !  How 
rare  these  things  are !  LETTERS,  P.  7z. 

"Through         Would  not  a  friend  enhance  the 

thee  alone  . 

the  sky  is       beauty  ot  the  landscape  as  much 

arched.  r 

Through     as  a  deer  or  a  hare  ?     Everything 

thee  the  rose  J 

is  red."  would  acknowledge  and  serve 
such  a  relation  ;  the  corn  in  the  field,  and 
the  cranberries  in  the  meadow.  The  flow 
ers  would  bloom  and  the  birds  sing  with  a 
new  impulse.  There  would  be  more  fair 
days  in  the  year.  LETTERS,  p.  ?s. 

"On the  The    object    of    love    expands 

broken  a^cs,  and  grows  before  us  to  eternity, 

heaven  a  until  it  includes  all  that  is  lovely, 

sound."  and  we  become  all  that  can  love. 

LETTERS,  p.  79. 

Meet  others  If  you  seek  the  warmth  even 
°stpianeg  of  affection  from  a  similar  mo- 
commrnd.  tive  to  that  from  which  cats  and 


SELECTIONS  FROM  THOREAU.       6 1 

dogs  and  slothful  persons  hug  the  fire,  be 
cause  your  temperature  is  low  through 
sloth,  you  are  on  the  downward  road,  and 
it  is  but  to  plunge  yet  deeper  into  slofh. 

LETTERS,  p.  81. 

Genuine  The  warmth   of   celestial   love 

love  elevates  does  not  relax,  but  nerves  and 
strengthens.  braces  j^s  enjoyer.  Warm  your 
body  by  healthful  exercise,  not  by  cower 
ing  over  a  stove.  Warm  your  spirit  by 
performing  independently  noble  deeds,  not 
by  ignobly  seeking  the  sympathy  of  your 
fellows  who  are  no  better  than  yourself. 

LETTERS,  p.  81. 

Friends  deal  A  man's  social  and  spiritual 
truthwith  discipline  must  answer  to  his  cor- 

each  other.       pQrea]         Re  must  Jean  Qn  a  friend 

who  has  a  hard  breast,  as  he  would  lie  on 
a  hard  bed.  He  must  drink  cold  water  for 
his  only  beverage.  So  he  must  not  hear 
sweetened  and  colored  words,  but  pure  and 
refreshing  truths.  He  must  daily  bathe  in 
truth  cold  as  spring  water,  not  warmed  by 
the  sympathy  of  friends.  LETTERS,  p.  si. 

We  must  love  our  friend  so  much  that 


62         SELECTIONS  FROM  THOREAU. 

she  shall  be  associated  with  our  purest  and 
holiest  thoughts  alone.  When  there  is 
impurity,  we  have  "descended  to  meet," 

though  We  knew  it   not.  LETTERS,  p.  82. 


Love  must  We  may  love  and  not  elevate 
toSta  one  another.  The  love  that  takes 
us  as  it  finds  us  degrades  us. 
What  watch  we  must  keep  over  the  fairest 
and  purest  of  our  affections,  lest  there  be 
some  taint  about  them.  May  we  so  love 
as  never  to  have  occasion  to  repent  our 

love.  LETTERS,  p.  82. 

A  flower  the  Flowers,  which,  by  their  infinite 
pore  love.  hues  and  fragrance,  celebrate  the 
marriage  of  the  plants,  are  intended  for  a 
symbol  of  the  open  and  unsuspected  beauty 
of  all  true  marriage,  when  man's  flower 
ing  season  arrives.  LETTERS,  P.  82. 

The  joy  of  A  true  marriage  will  differ  in 
intellectual  no  wise  from  illumination.  In  all 
perception.  perceptjon  of  the  truth  there  is  a 

divine  ecstasy,  an  inexpressible  delirium 
of  joy,  as  when  a  youth  embraces  his  be 
trothed  virgin.  The  ultimate  delights  of 
a  true  marriage  are  one  with  this. 

LETTERS,  p.  84. 


SELECTIONS  FROM  THOREAU.        63 

Pure  love          Some  have  asked  if  the  stock  of 

the  radical  11^1-  ^  -r 

reformer.  men  could  not  be  improved,  —  it 
they  could  not  be  bred  as  cattle.  Let  love 
be  purified,  and  all  the  rest  will  follow.  A 
pure  love  is  thus,  indeed,  the  panacea  for 

all  the  ills  Of  the  WOrld.  LETTERS,  p.  84. 

The  off-  The  only  excuse  for  reproduc- 

spring  of  the       ...  _  _ 

noble  tend      tion  is  improvement.     Nature  ab- 

to  a  higher 

nobility.  hors  repetition.  Beasts  merely 
propagate  their  kind  ;  but  the  offspring  of 
noble  men  and  women  will  be  superior  to 
themselves,  as  their  aspirations  are.  By 
their  fruits  ye  shall  know  them. 

LETTERS,  p.  84. 


Faithfulness  As  to  how  to  preserve  potatoes 
knowledge  from  rotting  my  opinion  may 
soul.  change  from  year  to  year ;  but  as 

to  how  to  preserve  my  soul  from  rotting, 
I  have  nothing  to  learn,  but  something  to 

practice.  LETTERS,  p.  87. 

wealth  com-  Tne  problem  of  life  becomes, 
problem ^f6  one  cannot  say  by  how  many  de 
grees,  more  complicated  as  our 
material  wealth  is  increased,  whether  that 
needle  they  tell  of  was  a  gateway  or  not, 


64        SELECTIONS  FROM  THOREAU. 

since  the  problem  is  not  merely  nor  mainly 
to  get  life  for  our  bodies,  but  by  this  or  a 
similar  discipline  to  get  life  for  our  souls  ; 
by  cultivating  the  lowland  farm  on  right 
principles,  that  is,  with  this  view,  to  turn 
it  into  an  upland  farm.  LETTERS,  p.  ss. 

TO  truly  Though  we  are  desirous  to  earn 


earn  our 


bread,  we      our  bread,  we  need  not  be  anxious 

must  satisfy  .  . 

God  for  it.      to  satisfy  men  tor  it,  —  though  we 
shall  take  care  to  pay  them,  —  but  God, 

Who  alone  gave  it  tO  US.  LETTERS,  p.  89. 


Men  may  ut  US  ln  tne 

PoSsfying  debtors'  jail  for  that  matter,  sim 
ply  for  paying  our  whole  debt  to 
God,  which  includes  our  debt  to  them,  and 
though  we  have  his  receipt  for  it,  for  his 
paper  is  dishonored.  LETTERS,  P.  90. 

How  prompt  we  are  to  satisfy  the  hun 
ger  and  thirst  of  our  bodies  ;  how  slow  to 
satisfy  the  hunger  and  thirst  of  our  souls. 

LETTERS,  p.  90. 


Care  for  the  An    ordinary    man    will    work 

body  com- 

pared  with  every  day  for  a  year  at  shovelling 

care  for  the  J           J                    J .                                    f 

soul.  dirt  to  support  his  body,  or  a  tarn- 


SELECTIONS  FROM  THOREAU.        65 

ily  of  bodies  ;  but  he  is  an  extraordinary 
man  who  will  work  a  whole  day  in  a  year 

for  the  Support  of  his  SOUI.  LETTERS,  p.  go. 

Real  success.  He  alone  is  the  truly  enterpris 
ing  and  practical  man  who  succeeds  in 
maintaining  his  soul  here.  Have  we  not 
our  everlasting  life  to  get  ?  and  is  not  that 
the  only  excuse  for  eating,  drinking,  sleep 
ing,  or  even  carrying  an  umbrella  when  it 

rains  ?  LETTERS,  p.  go. 

The  helpful  I  am  mucri  indebted  to  you  be- 
courag?"  our  cause  you  look  so  steadily  at  the 
aspirations.  |jetter  g^e,  or  ratrier  the  true  cen 
tre  of  me  (for  our  true  centre  may,  and 
perhaps  oftenest  does,  lie  entirely  aside 
from  us,  and  we  are  in  fact  eccentric),  and, 
as  I  have  elsewhere  said,  "  give  me  an  op 
portunity  to  live."  LETTERS,  p.  91. 

The  ideal  What  a  little  shelf  is  required, 
slight  suP-  by  which  we  may  impinge  upon 

port  in  the  '  ./-      .     J         &  . 

actual.  another,  and  build  there  our  eyrie 
in  the  clouds,  and  all  the  heavens  we 
see  above  us  we  refer  to  the  crags  around 
and  beneath  us.  Some  piece  of  mica,  as 
it  were,  in  the  face  or  eyes  of  one,  as  on 


66        SELECTIONS  FROM  THOREAU. 

the  delectable  mountains,  slanted  at  the 
right  angle,  reflects  the  heavens  to  us. 

LETTERS,  p.  91. 

HOW  the  It  was  not  the  hero  I  admired, 

%uaresraans~  but  the  reflection  from  his  epau 
let  or  helmet.  It  is  nothing  (for 
us)  permanently  inherent  in  another,  but 
his  attitude  or  relation  to  what  we  prize, 
that  we  admire.  The  meanest  man  may 
glitter  with  micaceous  particles  to  his  fel 
low's  eye.  These  are  the  spangles  that 
adorn  a  man.  LETTERS,  p.  91. 

ideal  union.  The  highest  union, ...  or  central 
oneness,  is  the  coincidence  of  visual  rays. 
Our  club-room  was  an  apartment  in  a  con 
stellation  where  our  visual  rays  met  (and 
there  was  no  debate  about  the  restaurant). 
The  way  between  us  is  over  the  mount. 

LETTERS,  p  92. 

Yourself  and  Your  words  make  me  think  of 
inythelfh°gsn-  a  man  of  my  acquaintance  whom 
I  occasionally  meet,  whom  you, 
too,  appear  to  have  met,  one  Myself,  as 
he  is  called.  Yet,  why  not  call  him  Your- 
self  ?  If  you  have  met  with  him  and 


SELECTIONS  FROM   THOREAU.        6/ 

know  him,  it  is  all  I  have  done  ;  and  surely 
where  there  is  mutual  acquaintance,  the 
my  and  thy  make  a  distinction  without  a 

difference.  LETTERS,  p.  92. 

The  most  Hold  fast  to  your  most  indefi- 

Ihought'sig-  nite,  waking  dream.  The  very 
green  dust  on  the  walls  is  an  or 
ganized  vegetable  ;  the  atmosphere  has  its 
fauna  and  flora  floating  in  it ;  and  shall  we 
think  that  dreams  are  but  dust  and  ashes, 
are  always  disintegrated  and  crumbling 
thoughts,  and  not  dust-like  thoughts  troop 
ing  to  their  standard  with  music,  systems 
beginning  to  be  organized  ?  LETTERS,  P.  92. 

Value  of  a          Suppose  a  man  were  to  sell  the 

clear  soul  .... 

compared       hue,  the  least  amount  of  coloring 

with  mate- 

rial  gains.  matter  in  the  superficies  of  his 
thought,  for  a  farm, — were  to  exchange  an 
absolute  and  infinite  value  for  a  relative 
and  finite  one,  to  gain  the  whole  world  and 

lose  his  Own  SOUl  !  LETTERS,  p.  93. 

Self-respect.  It  is  worth  while  to  live  respect 
ably  unto  ourselves.  We  can  possibly  get 
along  with  a  neighbor,  even  with  a  bedfel 
low,  whom  we  respect  but  very  little ;  but 


68        SELECTIONS  FROM  THOREAU. 

as  soon  as  it  comes  to  that,  that  we  do  not 
respect  ourselves,  then  we  do  not  get  along 
at  all,  no  matter  how  much  money  we  are 

paid  for  halting.  LETTERS,  p.  95. 

Better  ob-  It  is  better  to  have  your  head 
above  than  in  the  clouds,  and  know  where 
ness  beiow.  you  are,  if  indeed  you  cannot 
get  it  above  them,  than  to  breathe  the 
clearer  atmosphere  below  them,  and  think 
that  you  are  in  paradise.  LETTERS,  P.  96. 

Appeal  to          All  that  men  have  said  or  are 

the  highest        .  .  . 

within  you.  is  a  very  taint  rumor,  and  it  is  not 
worth  while  to  remember  or  refer  to  that. 
If  you  are  to  meet  God,  will  you  refer  to 
anybody  out  of  that  court  ?  How  shall  men 
know  how  I  succeed,  unless  they  are  in  at 
the  life  ?  I  did  not  see  the  "  Times  "  re 
porter  there.  LETTERS,  p.  96. 

Friends  We  will  stand  on  solid  founda- 

must  meet  .  _  . 

erectly.  tions  to  one  another,  —  la  col 
umn  planted  on  this  shore,  you  on  that.  .  .  . 
We  will  not  mutually  fall  over  that  we  may 
meet,  but  will  grandly  and  eternally  guard 

the  StraitS.  LETTERS,  p.  119- 


SELECTIONS  FROM  THOREAU.        69 

The  comfort  Talk  of  burning  your  smoke 
of  industry.  a£ter  ^Q  WOO(^  has  been  con- 

sumed !  There  is  a  far  more  important 
and  warming  heat,  commonly  lost,  which 
precedes  the  burning  of  the  wood.  It  is 
the  smoke  of  industry,  which  is  incense.  I 
had  been  so  thoroughly  warmed  in  body 
and  spirit,  that  when  at  length  my  fuel  was 
housed,  I  came  near  selling  it  to  the  ash 
man,  as  if  I  had  extracted  all  its  heat. 

LETTERS,  p.  128. 

Providing          Is  it  not  delightful  to  provide 

necessaries,  ,  1f        .    .  .  - 

rot  super-  one  s  self  with  the  necessaries  of 
pleasure.  life,  —  to  collect  dry  wood  for  the 
fire  when  the  weather  grows  cool,  or  fruits 
when  we  grow  hungry?  —  not  till  then. 
And  then  we  have  all  the  time  left  for 

thought  !  LETTERS,  p.  96. 

A  warm  Of  what  use  were  it,  pray,  to 

body  and  a  . .      .  .  . 

cold  spirit,  get  a  little  wood  to  burn  to  warm 
your  body  this  cold  weather,  if  there  were 
not  a  divine  fire  kindled  at  the  same  time 

tO  Warm  yOUr  Spirit  ?  LETTERS,  p.  97. 


Thetrue  Life  is  so  short  that  it  is  not 

wise  to  take  roundabout  ways,  nor 


70         SELECTIONS  FROM  THOREAU. 

can  we  spend  much  time  in  waiting.  Is  it 
absolutely  necessary,  then,  that  we  should 
do  as  we  are  doing  ?  .  .  .  Though  it  is  late 
to  leave  off  this  wrong  way,  it  will  seem 
early  the  moment  we  begin  in  the  right 
way  ;  instead  of  mid-afternoon,  it  will  be 
early  morning  with  us.  We  have  not  got 
half-way  to  dawn  yet.  LETTERS,  P.  97. 

Necessity  of  We  mUSt  heaP    UP    a    great    Pile 

of  doing  for  a  small  diameter  of 
being.  Is  it  not  imperative  on  us  that  we 
do  something,  if  we  only  work  in  a  tread 
mill  ?  And,  indeed,  some  sort  of  revolving 
is  necessary  to  produce  a  centre  and  nu 
cleus  of  being.  What  exercise  is  to  the 
body,  employment  is  to  the  mind  and 

morals.  LETTERS,  p.  99. 

Uncon-  There  are  so  many  layers   of 

sciousness  of  . 

beauty.  mere  white  lime  m  every  shell  to 
that  thin  inner  one  so  beautifully  tinted. 
Let  not  the  shell-fish  think  to  build  his 
house  of  that  alone  ;  and  pray,  what  are  its 
tints  to  him  ?  Is  it  not  his  smooth,  close- 
fitting  shirt  merely,  whose  tints  are  not  to 
him,  being  in  the  dark,  but  only  when  he 
is  gone  or  dead,  and  his  shell  is  heaved  up 


SELECTIONS   FROM   THOREAU.        Jl 

to  light,  a  wreck  upon  the  beach,  do  they 

appear.  LETTERS,  p.  99. 

High  results  How  admirably  the  artist  is 
made  to  accomplish  his  self-cul 
ture  by  devotion  to  his  art  !  The  wood- 
sawyer,  through  his  effort  to  do  his  work 
well,  becomes  not  merely  a  better  wood- 
sawyer,  but  measurably  a  better  man. 

LETTERS,  p.  100. 


NO  diiettan-  Y°u  say  that  you  do  not  suc 
ceed  much.  Does  it  concern  you 
enough  that  you  do  not  ?  Do  you  work 
hard  enough  at  it  ?  Do  you  get  the  bene 
fit  of  discipline  out  of  it  ?  If  so,  persevere. 
Is  it  a  more  serious  thing  than  to  walk  a 
thousand  miles  in  a  thousand  successive 
hours  ?  Do  you  get  any  corns  by  it  ?  Do 
you  ever  think  of  hanging  yourself  on  ac 

count  Of  failure  ?  LETTERS,  p.  100. 

It  is  the  art  of  mankind  to  polish  the 
world,  and  every  one  who  works  is  scrub 

bing  in  SOme  part.  LETTERS,  p.  101. 


The  higher  If  the  work  is  high  and  far,  you 

the  aim,  the  . 

more  earnest  must   not    only   aim   aright,    but 

must  be  the  J 

work.  draw  the  bow  with  all  your  might. 


72        SELECTIONS  FROM  THOREAU. 

You  must  qualify  yourself  to  use  a  bow 
which  no  humbler  archer  can  bend. 

"  Work,  —  work,  —  work  !  " 

Who  shall  know  it  for  a  bow  ?  It  is  not 
of  yew-tree.  It  is  straighter  than  a  ray  of 
light ;  flexibility  is  not  known  for  one  of 

its  qualities.  LETTERS,  p.  101. 

work  in  Whether  a  man  spends  his  day 

spite  of  .  iii/ 

moods.  m  an  ecstasy  or  despondency,  he 
must  do  some  work  to  show  for  it,  even  as 
there  are  flesh  and  bones  to  show  for  him. 
We  are  superior  to  the  joy  we  experience. 

LETTERS,  p.  103. 

The  loneii-         Ah !     what    foreign    countries 

ness  of  false 

society.  there  are,  greater  in  extent  than 
the  United  States  or  Russia,  and  with 
no  more  souls  to  a  square  mile,  stretching 
away  on  every  side  from  every  human 
being,  with  whom  you  have  no  sympathy. 
.  .  .  Rocks,  earth,  brute  beasts,  compara 
tively,  are  not  so  strange  to  me. 

LETTERS,  p.  105. 

When  I  sit  in  the  parlors  and  kitchens 
of  some  with  whom  my  business  brings  me 
—  I  was  going  to  say  in  contact  —  (busi- 


SELECTIONS  FKOM   THOREAU.         73 

ness,  like  misery,  makes  strange  bedfel 
lows),  I  feel  a  sort  of  awe,  and  as  forlorn  as 
if  I  were  cast  away  on  a  desolate  shore.  I 
think  of  Riley's  narrative  and  his  suf 

ferings.  LETTERS,  p.  105. 

HOW  finite  You,  who  soared  like  a  merlin 
bo'aktesess  with  y°ur  mate  through  the  realms 
of  ether,  in  the  presence  of  the 
unlike  drop  at  once  to  earth,  a  mere  amor 
phous  squab,  divested  of  your  air-inflated 
pinions.  .  .  .  You  travel  on,  however, 
through  this  dark  and  desert  world  ;  you 
see  in  the  distance  an  intelligent  and  sym 
pathizing  lineament  ;  stars  come  forth  in 
the  dark,  and  oases  appear  in  the  desert. 

LETTERS,  p.  105. 


The  friend  I  am  glad  to  hear  that  I  do  not 
limit  our  always  limit  your  vision  when  you 
look  this  way  ;  that  you  some 
times  see  the  light  through  me  ;  that  I  am 
here  and  there  windows,  and  not  all  dead 
wall.  Might  not  the  community  sometimes 
petition  a  man  to  remove  himself  as  a 
nuisance,  a  darkener  of  the  day,  a  too 

large  mOte  ?  LETTERS,  p.  107. 


74        SELECTIONS  FROM  THOREAU. 

Humanity  The  best  news  you  send  me  is, 
Nature.  not  that  Nature  with  you  is  so 
fair  and  genial,  but  that  there  is  one  there 
who  likes  her  so  well.  That  proves  all  that 

Was  asserted.  LETTERS,  p.  in. 


Things  cor-  I  nave  not  yet  learned  to  live, 
ouThighest  that  I  can  see,  and  I  fear  that  I 
shall  not  very  soon.  I  find,  how 
ever,  that  in  the  long  run  things  corre 
spond  to  my  original  idea,  —  that  they  cor 
respond  to  nothing  else  so  much. 

LETTERS,  p.  113. 

Courage.  When  an  Indian  is  burned,  his 

body  may  be  broiled,  it  may  be  no  more 
than  a  beefsteak.  What  of  that  ?  They 
may  broil  his  Jicart,  —  but  they  do  not 
therefore  broil  his  courage,  —  his  princi 
ples.  Be  of  good  courage !  That  is  the 

main  thing.  LETTERS,  p.  1 13. 

Tothecour-  ^    a  man  were  to  plaCC    himself 

burdensabe-  ™  an  attitude  to  bear  manfully 
come  light.  the  greatest  evji  that  can  be  in 
flicted  on  him,  he  would  find  suddenly  that 
there  was  no  such  evil  to  bear  ;  his  brave 
back  would  go  a-begging.  .  .  .  But  as  long 


SELECTIONS  FROM  THOREAU.        75 

as  he  crouches,  and  skulks,  and  shirks  his 
work,  every  creature  that  has  weight  will 
be  treading  on  his  toes,  and  crushing  him  ; 
he  will  himself  tread  with  one  foot  on  the 

Other  foot.  LETTERS,  p.  114. 

Thedreadfui       The  monster  is  never  just  there 

thing  not  .....  ,.... 

outside  of  us.  where  we  think  he  is.  What  is 
truly  monstrous  is  our  cowardice  and  sloth. 

LETTERS,  p.  114. 

The  true  Why  should  we  ever  go  abroad, 

adviser,  even  across  the  way,  to  ask  a 
neighbor's  advice  ?  There  is  a  nearer 
neighbor  within  us  incessantly  telling  us 
how  we  should  behave.  But  we  wait  for 
the  neighbor  without  to  tell  us  of  some 
false,  easier  way.  LETTERS,  P.  n4. 

Fatal  post-  ^n    every    one    °f    these    hoUSCS 

ponement.  thcre  is  at  least  one  man  fighting 
or  squabbling  a  good  part  of  his  time  with 
a  dozen  pet  demons  of  his  own  breeding  and 
cherishing,  which  are  relentlessly  gnawing 
at  his  vitals  ;  and  if  perchance  he  resolve 
at  length  that  he  will  courageously  combat 
them,  he  says,  "  Ay !  Ay !  I  will  attend 
to  you  after  dinner."  And,  when  that  time 


76         SELECTIONS  FROM  THOREAU. 

comes,  he  concludes  that  he  is  good  for 
another  stage,  and  reads  a  column  or  two 
about  the  Eastern  War  !  LETTERS,  P.  u5. 

we  must  At  last  one  will  say,  "Let  us 

account  for 

our  lives.  see,  how  much  wood  did  you  burn, 
sir  ? "  and  I  shall  shudder  to  think  that  the 
next  question  will  be,  "  What  did  you  do 
while  you  were  warm  ? "  Do  we  think  the 
ashes  will  pay  for  it  ?  that  God  is  an  ash 
man  ?  It  is  a  fact  that  we  have  got  to  ren 
der  an  account  for  the  deeds  done  in  the 

body.  LETTERS,  p.  115. 

Sincerity  is  a  great  but  rare  virtue,  and 
we  pardon  to  it  much  complaining,  and  the 
betrayal  of  many  weaknesses.  LETTERS,  p.  u7. 

simplicity  To  what  end  do  I  lead  a  simple 
?nfe«t  life  at  all,  pray?  That  I  may 
teach  others  to  simplify  their 
lives  ?  —  and  so  all  our  lives  be  simplified 
merely,  like  an  algebraic  formula  ?  Or  not, 
rather,  that  I  may  make  use  of  the  ground 
I  have  cleared,  to  live  more  worthily  and 

profitably  ?  LETTERS,  p.  117. 

I  would  fain  lay  the  most  stress  forever 


SELECTIONS  FROM  THOREAU.        fj 

on  that  which  is  the  most  important,  —  im 
ports  the  most  to  me,  —  though  it  were 
only  (what  it  is  likely  to  be)  a  vibration  in 

the  air.  LETTERS,  p.  118. 

Themnun-         I  was  glad  to  hear   the  other 

tains  within  . 

us.  day  that   Higgmson    and    Brown 

were  gone  to  Ktaadn  ;  it  must  be  so 
much  better  to  go  to  than  a  Woman's 
Rights  or  Abolition  Convention  ;  better 
still,  to  the  delectable,  primitive  mounts 
within  you,  which  you  have  dreamed  of 
from  your  youth  up,  and  seen,  perhaps,  in 
the  horizon,  but  never  climbed. 

LETTERS,  p.  118. 


Poverty  of  A  wa^  over  the  crust  to  Asny- 
foteuroa?nd  bumsldt,  standing  there  in  its 
inviting  simplicity,  is  tempting  to 
think  of,  —  making  a  fire  on  the  snow  un 
der  some  rock  !  The  very  poverty  of  out 
ward  nature  implies  an  inward  wealth  in  the 
walker.  What  a  Golconda  is  he  conversant 
with,  thawing  his  fingers  over  such  a 

blaze  !  LETTERS,  p.  137- 

Helpful  As  for  the  dispute  about  soli 

tude  and  society,  any  comparison 


78     SELecTiojvs  FROM  THOREAU. 

is  impertinent.  It  is  an  idling  down  on  the 
plain  at  the  base  of  a  mountain,  instead  of 
climbing  steadily  to  its  top.  Of  course  you 
will  be  glad  of  all  the  society  you  can  get 
to  go  up  with.  Will  you  go  to  glory  with 
me  ?  is  the  burden  of  the  song.  LETTERS,  p.  139. 


•&• 


It  is  not  that  we  love  to  be  alone,  but 
that  we  love  to  soar,  and  when  we  do 
soar,  the  company  grows  thinner  and  thin 
ner  till  there  is  none  at  all.  It  is  either 
the  tribune  on  the  plain,  a  sermon  on  the 
mount,  or  a  very  private  ecstasy  still  higher 
up.  We  are  not  the  less  to  aim  at  the 
summits,  though  the  multitude  does  not 
ascend  them.  Use  all  the  society  that  will 

abet  yOU.         ,  LETTERS,  p.  13$. 

Gratitude  I   am   grateful  for  what   I  am 

for  the  sense  .     . 

of  existence,  and  have.  My  thanksgiving  is 
perpetual.  It  is  surprising  how  contented 
one  can  be  with  nothing  definite,  —  only  a 
sense  of  existence.  LETTERS,  P.  MS 


The  doable-        Methinks   a   certain   polygamy 

aessofour  ,  ,  ,  ', 

with   its  troubles   is  the  tate   of 


almost  all  men.     They  are  married  to  two 
wives,  their  genius  (a  celestial  muse),  and 


SELECTIONS  FROM  THOREAU.        fg 

also  to  some  fair  daughter  of  the  earth. 
Unless  these  two  were  fast  friends  before 
marriage,  and  so  are  afterward,  there  wiH 
be  but  little  peace  in  the  house. 

LTTTEK,?,  154- 

It  is  a  great  satisfaction  to  find 
that  your  oldest  convictions  are 
permanent  With  regard  to  es- 
s  e  r.  ".:=.!  s  I  have  never  had  occasion  to  change 
rr.y  mind.  .  .  .  The  aspect  of  the  world 
Y~r:  :5  from  year  to  year,  as  the  landscape 
is  d  ff-rently  clothed,  but  I  find  that  the 
truth  is  still  true,  and  I  never  regret  any 
emphasis  it  may  have  inspired.  Ktaadn  is 
th  :re  still,  but  much  more  sorely  my  con 
viction  is  there,  resting  with  more  than 
mountain  breadth  and  weight  on  the  world, 
the  source  still  of  fertilizing  streams,  and 
affording  glorious  views  from  its  summit 
if  I  can  get  up  to  it  again. 


t. .-,  .  As  for  style  of  writing,  if  one 

has  anything  to  say,  it  drops  from 
him  simply  and  directly,  as  a  stone  falls  to 
the  ground.  There  are  no  two  ways  about 
it,  but  down  it  comes,  and  he  may  stick  in 
the  points  and  stops  wherever  he  can  get  a 


80        SELECT/OXS  FXO.V  THOREAU. 

chance.  ...  To  try  to  polish  the  stone  in 
its  descent,  to  give  it  a  peculiar  turn,  and 
make  it  whistle  a  tune,  perchance  would  be 
of  no  use,  if  it  were  possible,  L*TT«*S,  p.  158. 

jnuetitetor  As  some  heads  cannot  earn,' 
*  much  wine,  so  it  would  seem  that 

I  cannot  bear  so  much  society  as  you  can. 
I  have  an  immense  appetite  for  solitude, 
like  an  infant  for  sleep,  and  if  I  don't  get 
enough  of  it  this  year,  I  shall  cry  all  the 

"  C  X  t  La  limits,  p.  160. 


If  you  have  been  to  the  top  of 
•Mdmher    Mount  Washington,  let   me  ask, 

than  in  the 

thingdooe.  What  did  you  find  there  ?  That 
is  the  way  they  prove  witnesses,  you  know. 
Going  up  there  and  being  blown  on  is  noth- 
:-_  \Vo  never  io  much  climbing  while  we 
are  there,  but  we  eat  our  luncheon,  etc., 
very  much  as  at  home.  It  is  after  we  get 
home  that  we  really  go  over  the  mountain, 
if  ever.  WTiat  did  the  mountain  say  ? 
What  did  the  mountain  do  ?  L«TTMS,  P.  165. 

B<  wanned  Now  is  the  time  to  become  con- 
by  activity.  versant  with  your  wood-pile  (this 
comes  under  Work  for  the  Month),  and  be 


SELECTIONS  FROM  THOREAU.          8 1 

sure  you  put  some  warmth  into  it  by  your 
way  of  getting  it.  Do  not  consent  to  be 
passively  warmed.  An  intense  degree  of 
that  is  the  hotness  that  is  threatened.  But 
a  positive  warmth  within  can  withstand  the 
fiery  furnace,  as  the  vital  heat  of  a  living 
man  can  withstand  the  heat  that  cooks 

meat.  Lmrmts,  p.  167. 

?-    :  I  have  lately  got  back  to  that 

•  -  '-          i  -  11    *  <—  I-     * 

glorious  society,  called  Solitude, 

where  we  meet  our  friends  continually,  and 
can  imagine  the  outside  world  also  to  be 
peopled.  Yet  some  of  my  acquaintances 
would  fain  hustle  me  into  the  almshouse 
for  the  sake  of  society,  as  if  I  were  pining 
for  that  diet,  when  I  seem  to  myself  a 
most  befriended  man,  and  find  constant 
employment.  LXTTZSS,  p.  173. 

What  a  fool  he  must  be  who  thinks  that 
his  El  Dorado  is  anywhere  but  where  he 

lives.  Lcrms,  p.  177. 

-  -      ., .         What  a  battle  a  man  must  fight 
j^hfafcf    everywhere  to  maintain  his  stand 
ing  army  of  thoughts,  and  march 

with  them  in  orderly  array  through  the 


82        SELECTIONS  FROM  THOREAU. 

always  hostile  country  !  How  many  ene 
mies  there  are  to  sane  thinking.  Every 
soldier  has  succumbed  to  them  before  he 
enlists  for  those  other  battles. 

LETTERS,  p.  179. 

The  cost  of  It  is  easy  enough  to  maintain  a 
KS  family,  or  a  state,  but  it  is  hard 
thoughts.  to  maintain  these  children  of  your 
brain  (or  say,  rather,  these  guests  that  trust 
to  enjoy  your  hospitality),  they  make  such 
great  demands  ;  and  yet,  he  who  does  only 
the  former,  and  loses  the  power  to  think 
originally,  or  as  only  he  ever  can,  fails  mis 
erably.  Keep  up  the  fires  of  thought,  and 

all  Will  gO  Well.  LETTERS,  p.  180. 

Real  success  How  You  can  overrun  a  coun- 
fsVn  ou7  try,  climb  any  rampart,  and  carry 
thoughts.  any  fortresS)  wjth  an  armv  Of 

alert  thoughts  !  —  thoughts  that  send  their 
bullets  home  to  heaven's  door,  —  with 
which  you  can  take  the  whole  world,  with 
out  paying  for  it,  or  robbing  anybody.  See, 
the  conquering  hero  comes  !  You  fail  in 
your  thoughts,  or  you  prevail  in  your 

thoughts    Only.  LETTERS,  p.  180. 


SELECTIONS  FROM  THOREAU.        83 
Thought  a          In  your  mind  must  be  a  liquor 

solvent  for  1-1  •  •,-,         T          1  1  11 

the  world,  which  will  dissolve  the  world 
whenever  it  is  dropt  in  it.  There  is  no 
universal  solvent  but  this,  and  all  things 
together  cannot  saturate  it.  It  will  hold 
the  universe  in  solution,  and  yet  be  as 
translucent  as  ever.  LETTERS,  P.  181. 

Right  think-        Provided   you   think  well,    the 

ing  irresist-       ,  , 

ibie.  heavens  falling,  or  the  earth  ga 

ping,  will  be  music  for  you  to  march  by. 
No  foe  can  ever  see  you,  or  you  him  ;  you 
cannot  so  much  as  think  of  him  ;  swords 
have  no  edges,  bullets  no  penetration,  for 

SUCh  a  COnteSt.  LETTERS,  p.  180. 

The  beauty  Look  at  mankind.  No  great 
Hfemisneroyur°£  difference  between  two,  appa- 
thoughts.  rently  .  perhaps  the  same  height, 

and  breadth,  and  weight ;  and  yet,  to  the 
man  who  sits  most  east,  this  life  is  a  wea 
riness,  routine,  dust  and  ashes,  and  he 
drowns  his  imaginary  cares  (!)  (a  sort  of  fric 
tion  among  his  vital  organs)  in  a  bowl.  But 
to  the  man  who  sits  most  west,  his  contempo 
rary  (!),  it  is  a  field  for  all  noble  endeavors, 
an  elysium,  the  dwelling-place  of  heroes 
and  demigods.  The  former  complains  that 


84        SELECTIONS  FROM  THOREAU. 

he  has  a  thousand  affairs  to  attend  to  ;  but 
he  does  not  realize  that  his  affairs  (though 
they  may  be  a  thousand)  and  he  are  one. 

LETTERS,  p.  182. 

Grade  the          What  is  the  use  of  a  house  if 
beforedyou     you  nave  n>t  got  a  tolerable  pla 
net  to  put  it  on  ?  —  if  you  cannot 
tolerate  the  planet   it   is  on  ?     Grade  the 

ground  first.  LETTERS,  p.  183. 

A  man's  ^  a  man  believes  and  expects 

fopteHnr  great  things  of  himself,  it  makes 
no  odds  where  you  put  him,  or 
what  you  show  him  (of  course  you  cannot 
put  him  anywhere,  nor  show  him  anything), 
he  will  be  surrounded  by  grandeur.  He 
is  in  the  condition  of  a  healthy  and  hungry 
man,  who  says  to  himself,  How  sweet 
this  crust  is  !  If  he  despairs  of  himself, 
then  Tophet  is  his  dwelling-place,  and  he 
is  in  the  condition  of  a  sick  man  who  is 
disgusted  with  the  fruits  of  finest  flavor. 

LETTERS,  p.  183. 

Whether  he  sleeps  or  wakes,  —  whether 
he  runs  or  walks,  —  whether  he  uses  a 
microscope  or  a  telescope,  or  his  naked 


SELECTIONS  FROM  THOREAU.        85 

eye,  —  a  man  never  discovers  anything, 
never  overtakes  anything,  or  leaves  any 
thing  behind,  but  himself.  Whatever  he 
says  or  does,  he  merely  reports  himself. 

LETTERS,  p.  183. 

Courage.  Each  reaching  and  aspiration  is 
an  instinct  with  which  all  nature  consists 
and  cooperates,  and  therefore  it  is  not  in 
vain.  But  alas !  each  relaxation  and  des 
peration  is  an  instinct  too.  To  be  active, 
well,  happy,  implies  rare  courage. 

LETTERS,  p.  184. 

success  The  fact  is,  you  have  got  to  take 

de^ofn°to  the  world  on  your  shoulders  like 
Atlas,  and  put  along  with  it. 
You  will  do  this  for  an  idea's  sake,  and 
your  success  will  be  in  proportion  to  your 
devotion  to  ideas.  It  may  make  your  back 
ache  occasionally,  but  you  will  have  the 
satisfaction  of  hanging  it  or  twirling  it  to 
suit  yourself.  Cowards  suffer,  heroes  en 
joy.  After  a  long  day's  walk  with  it,  pitch 
it  into  a  hollow  place,  sit  down  and  eat 
your  luncheon.  Unexpectedly,  by  some 
immortal  thoughts,  you  will  be  compen 
sated.  The  bank  whereon  you  sit  will  be 


86          SELECTIONS  FROM   THOREAU. 

a  fragrant  and  flowery  one,  and  your  world 
in  the  hollow,  a  sleek  and  light  gazelle. 

LETTERS,  p.  184. 

Explore  the        What  is  the  use  of  going  right 
&  m^dhii    over  the  old  track  again  ?     There 

your  ways. 


your  own  feet  have  worn.  You  must  make 
tracks  into  the  Unknown.  That  is  what 
you  have  your  board  and  clothes  for.  Why 
do  you  ever  mend  your  clothes,  unless  that, 
wearing  them,  you  may  mend  your  ways. 

LETTERS,  p.  185. 

One-s  I  am  very  busy,  after  my  fash- 

andSpa1?'  ion,  little  as  there  is  to  show  for 
it,  and  feel  as  if  I  could  not  spend 
many  days  nor  dollars  in  traveling  ;  for  the 
shortest  visit  must  have  a  fair  margin  to  it, 
and  the  days  thus  affect  the  weeks,  you 
know.  Nevertheless,  we  cannot  forego 
these  luxuries  altogether.  LETTERS,  P.  187. 

The  shallow-       This  life  is  not  for  complaint, 

ness  of  ....  A 

complaint,  but  for  satisfaction.  .  .  .  Any 
complaint  /  have  to  make  is  too  serious  to 
be  uttered,  for  the  evil  cannot  be  mended. 

LETTERS,  p.  i8S. 


SELECTIONS  FROM  THOREAU.         8/ 

unconscious       How  wholesome  winter  is,  seen 

goodness.          far      or     near  .      foQW      good,      aboVC 

all  mere  sentimental,  warm-blooded,  short 
lived,  soft-hearted,  moral  goodness,   com 
monly  so-called.      Give  me  the  goodness 
which    has    forgotten    its    own    deeds,  - 
which  God  has  seen  to  be  good,  and  let 

be.  LETTERS,  p.  194. 

What  business  have  you,  if  you  are  "  an 
angel  of  light,"  to  be  pondering  over  the 
deeds  of  darkness,  reading  the  "  New  York 
Herald  "  and  the  like  ?  LETTERS,  P.  195. 

I  will  not  doubt  the  love  untold 

Which  not  my  worth  nor  want  hath  bought, 

Which   wooed    me   young,    and   woos   me 

old, 
And  to  this  evening  hath  me  brought. 

LETTERS,  p.  219. 

The  ideal  of        E  very  walk  is  a  sort  of  crusade, 
preached  by  some  Peter  the  Her 
mit  in  us,  to  go  forth  and  reconquer  this 
Holy  Land  from  the  hands  of  the  Infidels. 

EXCURSIONS,  p.  162. 


88        SELECTIONS  FROM  THOREAU. 

Atnie  No  wealth  can  buy  the  requi- 

roalbyertheade  site   leisure,   freedom,   and   inde- 

graceofGod.    pendence)    which    are    the     capital 

in  this  profession.  It  comes  only  by  the 
grace  of  God.  It  requires  a  direct  dispen 
sation  from  Heaven  to  become  a  walker. 

EXCURSIONS,  p.  163. 

True  walk-         The  walking  of  which  I  speak 

ing  is  not  for  .... 

exercise.  has  nothing  in  it  akin  to  taking 
exercise,  as  it  is  called,  as  the  sick  take 
medicine  at  stated  hours,  —  as  the  swing 
ing  of  dumb-bells  or  chairs ;  but  is  itself 
the  enterprise  and  adventure  of  the  day. 
If  you  would  get  exercise,  go  in  search  of 
the  springs  of  life.  Think  of  a  man's 
swinging  dumb-bells  for  his  health,  when 
those  springs  are  bubbling  up  in  far-off 
pastures  unsought  by  him.  EXCURSIONS,  p.  166. 

Worldly  In  my  walks  I  would  fain  re- 

gottenf(ina  turn  to  my  senses.  What  busi 
ness  have  I  in  the  woods,  if  I 
am  thinking  of  something  out  of  the 
woods  ?  I  suspect  myself,  and  cannot  help 
a  shudder,  when  I  find  myself  so  implicated 
even  in  what  are  called  good  works,  —  for 
this  may  sometimes  happen. 

EXCURSIONS,  p.  169. 


SELECTIONS  FROM  THOREAU.        89 

The  interest        An  absolutely  new  prospect  is  a 

of  a  new  . 

prospect.  great  happiness,  and  1  can  get 
this  any  afternoon.  ...  A  single  farm 
house  which  I  had  not  seen  before  is 
sometimes  as  good  as  the  dominions  of  the 
King  of  Dahomey.  EXCURSIONS,  p.  169. 

Nature  Pre-        From  many  a  hill    I    can   see 

vails  over  .     ...          .  ,         ,  «       j  r 

man  in  a  civilization  and  the  abodes  or 
scape.  man  afar.  The  farmers  and  their 
works  are  scarcely  more  obvious  than 
wood-chucks  and  their  burrows.  Man  and 
his  affairs,  church  and  state  and  school, 
trade  and  commerce,  and  manufactures  and 
agriculture,  even  politics,  the  most  alarm 
ing  of  them  all,  —  I  am  pleased  to  see  how 
little  space  they  occupy  in  the  landscape. 

EXCURSIONS,  p.  170. 

To  enjoy  a  thing  exclusively  is  commonly 
to  exclude  yourself  from  the  true  enjoy 

ment  of  it.  EXCURSIONS,  p.  175. 


The  charm         There  are  some  intervals  which 

ofwildness. 


thrush,  to  which  I  would  migrate,  —  wild 
lands  where  no  settler  has  squatted,  to 
to  which,  methinks,  I  am  already  accli 

mated.  EXCURSIONS,  p.  186. 


90        SELECTIONS  FROM  THOREAU. 

Thejnost          Life    consists    with    wildness. 

alive,  the  . 

wildest.  I  he  most  alive  is  the  wildest. 
Not  yet  subdued  to  man,  its  presence  re 
freshes  him.  One  who  pressed  forward 
incessantly  and  never  rested  from  his  labors, 
who  grew  fast  and  made  infinite  demands 
on  life,  would  always  find  himself  in  a  new 
country  or  wilderness,  and  surrounded  by 
the  raw  material  of  life.  EXCURSIONS,  p.  187. 

Theattrac-         I    derive    more   of   my  subsis- 

tiveness  of  .  ,  ,   .    , 

swamps.  tence  from  the  swamps  which  sur 
round  my  native  town  than  from  the  culti 
vated  gardens  in  the  village.  There  are 
no  richer  pastures  to  my  eyes  than  the 
dense  beds  of  dwarf  andromcda  which 
cover  these  tender  places  on  the  earth's 

Surface.  EXCURSIONS,  p.  188. 

My  spirits  infallibly  rise  in  proportion  to 
the  outward  dreariness.  Give  me  the 
ocean,  the  desert,  or  the  wilderness. 

EXCURSIONS,  p.  189. 

wild  think-         It  is  the  uncivilized,  free,  and 

ing  delights  .  .   .     .   .  .  .,          .        „  , 

us.  wild  thinking  in      Hamlet      and 

the  "  Iliad,"  in  all  the  Scriptures  and  My 
thologies,  not  learned  in  the  schools,  that 

delights  US.  EXCURSIONS,  p.  193. 


SELECTIONS  FROM  THOREAU.        91 

wiidness  of  A  truly  good  book  is  something 
books.  as  natural  and  as  unexpectedly 
and  unaccountably  fair  and  perfect  as  a  wild 
flower  discovered  on  the  prairies  of  the  West 
or  in  the  jungles  of  the  East.  EXCURSIONS,  p.  193. 

NO  poetry  I  do  not  know  of  any  poetry  to 
Naulre.as  quote  which  adequately  expresses 
this  yearning  for  the  Wild.  Approached 
from  this  side,  the  best  poetry  is  tame.  I 
do  not  know  where  to  find  in  any  literature, 
ancient  or  modern,  any  account  which  con 
tents  me  of  that  Nature  with  which  even  I 
am  acquainted.  EXCURSIONS,  p.  195. 

The  soul  By  long  years  of  patient  indus- 

saence.  try  and  reading  of  the  newspa 
pers, —  for  what  are  the  libraries  of  science 
but  files  of  newspapers  ?  —  a  man  accumu 
lates  a  myriad  facts,  lays  them  up  in  his 
memory,  and  then  when  in  some  spring  of 
his  life  he  scampers  abroad  into  the  Great 
Fields  of  thought,  he,  as  it  were,  goes  to 
grass  like  a  horse,  and  leaves  all  his  har 
ness  behind  in  the  stable.  EXCURSIONS,  p.  203. 

Knowledge  A  man's  ignorance  sometimes 
wTsffhan  is  not  only  useful,  but  beautiful, 
ignorance.  _  while  his  knowledge,  so  called, 


92         SELECTIONS  FROM  THOREAU. 

is  oftentimes  worse  than  useless,  besides 
being  ugly.  Which  is  the  best  man  to 
deal  with,  —  he  who  knows  nothing  about 
a  subject,  and,  what  is  extremely  rare, 
knows  that  he  knows  nothing,  or  he  who 
really  knows  something  about  it,  but  thinks 
that  he  knows  all  ?  EXCURSIONS,  p.  204. 


Aim  above         MY  desire  for  knowledge  is  in- 

knowledge. 


my  head  in  atmospheres  unknown  to  my 
feet  is  perennial  and  constant.  The  high 
est  that  we  can  attain  to  is  not  Knowledge, 
but  Sympathy  with  Intelligence. 

EXCURSIONS,  p.  204. 

Free  and  "That    is    active    duty,"    says 

acdvify,  the  tne  Vishnu  Purana,  "which  is  not 
for  our  bondage  ;  that  is  know 
ledge  which  is  for  our  liberation  ;  all  other 
duty  is  good  only  unto  weariness  ;  all  other 
knowledge  is  only  the  cleverness  of  an 

artist.  EXCURSIONS,  p.  205. 


A  border  F°r    mV  Part>     I     ^Ce^    tnat 

NaturS    regard  to  Nature  I  live  a  sort  of 

border  life,  on  the  confines  of  a 

world  into  which   I   make  occasional  and 


SELECTIONS  FROM   THOREAU.        93 

transient  forays  only,  and  my  patriotism 
and  allegiance  to  the  State  into  whose 
territories  I  seem  to  retreat  are  those  of 
a  moss-trooper.  EXCURSIONS,  p.  2o7. 

vision  The  walker  in  the  familiar  fields 

wor°ksgofthe  which  stretch  around  my  native 
^dn'ess'of  town  sometimes  finds  himself  in 
another  land  than  is  described  in 
their  owners'  deeds.  .  .  .  These  farms  .  .  . 
have  no  chemistry  to  fix  them  ;  they  fade 
from  the  surface  of  the  glass,  and  the  pic 
ture  which  the  painter  painted  stands  out 
dimly  from  beneath.  EXCURSIONS,  p.  207. 

The  realm  We  are  accustomed  to  say  in 
laid  waste  New  England  that  few  and  fewer 

by  worldly  ...  .~ 

living.  pigeons  visit  us  every  year.  Our 
forests  furnish  no  mast  for  them.  So,  it 
would  seem,  few  and  fewer  thoughts  visit 
each  growing  man  from  year  to  year,  for 
the  grove  in  our  minds  is  laid  waste,  — 
sold  to  feed  unnecessary  fires  of  ambition, 
or  sent  to  mill,  and  there  is  scarcely  a  twig 
left  for  them  to  perch  on.  EXCURSIONS,  P.  209. 

The  great          So  we  saunter  toward  the  Holy 

fe'val'ue        Land.   til]     One    daY    the    SUn    sha11 

shine  more  brightly  than  ever  he 


94        SELECTIONS  FROM  THOREAU. 

has  done,  shall  perchance  shine  into  our 
minds  and  hearts,  and  light  up  our  whole 
lives  with  a  great  awakening  light,  as  warm 
and  serene  and  golden  as  on  a  bank-side  in 

autumn.  EXCURSIONS,  p.  214. 

Thecompii-  The  greatest  compliment  that 
^gnon°ef'sva'u"  was  ever  Paid  me  was  when  one 
asked  me  what  /  thought,  and  at 
tended  to  my  answer.  I  am  surprised  as 
well  as  delighted  when  this  happens,  it  is 
such  a  rare  use  he  would  make  of  me,  as  if 
he  were  acquainted  with  the  tool. 

YANKEE  IN  CANADA,  ETC.,  p.  248. 

The  glory  of  This  world  is  a  place  of  busi 
ness.  What  an  infinite  bustle! 
I  am  awaked  almost  every  night  by  the 
panting  of  the  locomotive.  It  interrupts 
my  dreams.  There  is  no  sabbath.  It 
would  be  glorious  to  see  mankind  at  leisure 

for  Once.  YANKEE  IN  CANADA,  ETC.,  p.  249. 


outdoor  We  must  go  out  and  re-ally  our 

selves  to  Nature  every  day.  We 
must  make  root,  send  out  some  little  fibre 
at  least,  even  every  winter  day.  I  am  sen 
sible  that  I  am  imbibing  health  when  I 


SELECTIONS  FROM  THOREAU.        95 

open  my  mouth  to  the  wind.  Staying  in 
the  house  breeds  a  sort  of  insanity  always. 
Every  house  is,  in  this  sense,  a  sort  of  hos 
pital.  A  night  and  a  forenoon  is  as  much 
confinement  to  those  wards  as  I  can  stand. 
I  am  aware  that  I  recover  some  sanity 
which  I  had  lost,  almost  the  instant  that  I 
come  abroad.  WINTER,  p.  57. 

The  evil  of  To  have  done  anything  by  which 
moneyg  vou  earned  money  merely  is  to 
have  been  truly  idle  or  worse.  If 
the  laborer  gets  no  more  than  the  wages 
which  his  employer  pays  him,  he  is  cheated ; 
he  cheats  himself. 

YANKEE  IN  CANADA,  ETC.,  p.  251. 

"Work for         The  aim  of  the  laborer  should 

work's  sake."   ^  nQt  tQ  get   ^  livjng)  to  get   «  a 

good  job,"  but  to  perform  well  a  certain 
work.  .  .  .  Do  not  hire  a  man  who  does 
your  work  for  money,  but  him  who  does  it 

for  love  of  it.  YANKEE  IN  CANADA,  ETC.,  p.  252. 


Thetmiy  The   community  has  no  bribe 

man.  that  will  tempt  a  wise  man.     You 

may  raise  money  enough  to  tunnel  a  moun 
tain,  but  you  cannot  raise  money  enough 


96        SELECTIONS  FROM  THOREAU. 

to  hire  a  man  who  is  minding  his  own 
business.  An  efficient  and  valuable  man 
does  what  he  can,  whether  the  community 
pay  him  for  it  or  not. 

YANKEE  IN  CANADA,  ETC.,  p.  253. 

Artificial  Perhaps  I  am  more  than  usually 

•lave us.  jealous  with  respect  to  my  free 
dom.  ...  If  my  wants  should  be  much  in 
creased,  the  labor  required  to  supply  them 
would  become  a  drudgery.  If  I  should  sell 
both  my  forenoons  and  afternoons  to  so 
ciety,  as  most  appear  to  do,  I  am  sure  that 
for  me  there  would  be  nothing  left  worth 
living  for.  I  trust  that  I  shall  never  thus 
sell  my  birthright  for  a  mess  of  pottage. 

YANKEE  IN  CANADA,  ETC.,  p.  253. 


The  constant       As  for  the  comparative  demand 

elevation  of  ...  ,.,... 

which  men  make  on  life,  it  is  an 


our  aim. 


important  difference  between  two,  that  one 
is  satisfied  with  a  level  success,  that  his 
marks  can  all  be  hit  by  point-blank  shots, 
but  the  other,  however  low  and  unsuccess 
ful  his  life  may  be,  constantly  elevates  his 
aim,  though  at  a  very  slight  angle  to  the 

horizon.  YANKEE  IN  CANADA,  ETC.,  p.  254. 


SELECTIONS  FROM  THOREAU.        97 

Living  and  It  is  remarkable  that  there  is 
fivin'jfshouid  little  or  nothing  to  be  remembered 
beautiful.  written  on  the  subject  of  getting 
a  living  :  how  to  make  getting  a  living  not 
merely  honest  and  honorable,  but  altogether 
inviting  and  glorious  ;  for  if  getting  a  living 
is  not  so,  then  living  is  not. 

YANKEE  IN  CANADA,  ETC.,  p.  254. 

Cold  and  hunger  seem  more  friendly  to 
my  nature  than  those  methods  which  men 
have  adopted  and  advise  to  ward  them  off. 

YANKEE  IN  CANADA,  ETC.,  p.  255. 


The  ordinary          The    WaYS    in    which    mOSt    men 

™e°dngof  get  their  living,  that  is,  live,  are 
hostnesto  mere  make-shifts,  and  a  shirking 
of  the  real  business  of  life,  chiefly 
because  they  do  not  know,  but  partly  be 
cause  they  do  not  mean,  any  better. 

YANKEE  IN  CANADA,  ETC.,  p.  255. 

A  grain  of  gold  will  gild  a  great  surface, 
but  not  so  much  as  a  grain  of  wisdom. 

YANKEE  IN  CANADA,  ETC.,  p.  257. 


where  alone       Men    rusn    to    California    and 

themzegold 

to  be  found  in  that  direction  ;  but 


98        SELECTIONS  FROM  THOREAU. 

that  is  to  go  to  the  very  opposite  extreme 
to  where  it  lies.  ...  Is  not  our  native  soil 
auriferous  ?  Does  not  a  stream  from  the 
golden  mountains  flow  through  our  native 
valley  ?  and  has  not  this  for  more  than 
geologic  ages  been  bringing  down  the 
shining  particles  and  forming  the  nuggets 

for  US  ?  YANKEE  IN  CANADA,  ETC.,  p.  258. 


what  shall  it       A  man  had  Better  starve  at  once 


f/he'shaT"  tnan  l°se  h*s  innocence  in  the 
^hoiehworid,  process  of  getting  his  bread.  If 
within  the  sophisticated  man  there 
is  not  an  unsophisticated  one,  then  he  is 
but  one  of  the  Devil's  angels.  As  we  grow 
old  we  live  more  coarsely,  we  relax  a  little 
in  our  disciplines,  and,  to  some  extent,  cease 
to  obey  our  finest  instincts.  But  we  should 
be  fastidious  to  the  extreme  of  sanity,  dis 
regarding  the  gibes  of  those  who  are  more 
unfortunate  than  ourselves. 

YANKEE  IN  CANADA,  ETC.,  p.  260. 

The  limited  I  hardly  know  an  intellectual 
men.  man,  even,  who  is  so  broad  and 

truly  liberal  that  you  can  think  aloud  in  his 
society.  Most  with  whom  you  endeavor 
to  talk  soon  come  to  a  stand  against  some 


SELECTION'S  FROM  THOREAU.        99 

institution  in  which  they  appear  to  hold 
stock,  —  that  is,  some  particular,  not  uni 
versal,  way  of  viewing  things.  They  will 
continually  thrust  their  own  low  roof,  with 
its  narrow  skylight,  between  you  and  the 
sky,  when  it  is  the  unobstructed  heavens 
you  would  view. 

YANKEE  IN  CANADA,  ETC.,  p.  261. 

Religion  In  some  lyceums  they  tell  me 

language  of  that  they  have  voted  to  exclude 
the  subject  of  religion.  But  how 
do  I  know  what  their  religion  is,  and  when 
I  am  near  to  it  or  far  from  it  ?  I  have 
walked  into  such  an  arena  and  done  my 
best  to  make  a  clean  breast  of  what  reli 
gion  I  have  experienced,  and  the  audience 
never  suspected  what  I  was  about. 

YANKEE  IN  CANADA,  ETC.,  p.  261. 

The  low  I    °ften   accuse    my   finest  ac- 

demandwe     quaintanccs    of   an    immense  fri- 

rna.Ke  upon         i 

each  other.  voiity  ;  for,  while  there  are  man 
ners  and  compliments  we  do  not  meet, 
we  do  not  teach  one  another  the  lessons 
of  honesty  and  sincerity  that  the  brutes 
do,  or  of  steadiness  and  solidity  that  the 
rocks  do.  The  fault  is  commonly  mutual, 


100       SELECTIONS  FROM  THOREAU. 

however ;  for  we  do  not  habitually  demand 
any  more  of  each  other. 

YANKEE  IN  CANADA,  ETC.,  p.  262. 

shallow  When  our  life  ceases  to  be  in- 

mtercourse.    warcj    an(|    private,   conversation 

degenerates  into  mere  gossip.  We  rarely 
meet  a  man  who  can  tell  us  any  news 
which  he  has  not  read  in  a  newspaper,  or 
been  told  by  his  neighbor ;  and,  for  the 
most  part,  the  only  difference  between  us 
and  our  fellow  is,  that  he  has  seen  the 
newspaper,  or  been  out  to  tea,  and  we  have 

not.  YANKEE  IN  CANADA,  ETC.,  p.  263. 

Lifesacn-  I  do  not  know  but  it  is  too 
newspaper,  much  to  read  one  newspaper  a 
week.  I  have  tried  it  recently,  and  for  so 
long  it  seems  to  me  that  I  have  not  dwelt 
in  my  native  region.  The  sun,  the  clouds, 
the  snow,  the  trees  say  not  so  much  to  me. 
You  cannot  serve  two  masters.  It  requires 
more  than  a  day's  devotion  to  know  and  to 
possess  the  wealth  of  a  day. 

YANKEE  IN  CANADA,  ETC.,  p.  263. 

A  world  If  y°u  chance  to  live  and  move 

that'ff'the      ar>d  have  your  being  in  that  thin 

newspaper.        stratum    Jn   ^J^  the    CVCntS    that 


SELECTIONS   FROM  THOREAU.      IOI 

make  the  news  transpire, —  thinner  than 
the  paper  on  which  it  is  printed,  —  then 
these  things  will  fill  the  world  for  you  ;  but 
if  you  soar  above  or  dive  below  that  plane, 
you  cannot  remember  nor  be  reminded  of 

them.  YANKEE  IN  CANADA,  ETC.,  p.  264. 

The  mind          I  am  astonished  to  observe  how 

not  to  be  .      . 

desecrated      willing  men  are  .  .  .  to  permit  idle 

by  gossip 

and  affairs,  rumors  and  incidents  of  the  most 
insignificant  kind  to  intrude  on  ground 
which  should  be  sacred  to  thought.  Shall 
the  mind  be  a  public  arena,  where  the  af 
fairs  of  the  street  and  the  gossip  of  the 
tea-table  chiefly  are  discussed  ?  Or  shall 
it  be  a  quarter  of  heaven  itself,  —  an  hy- 
paethral  temple,  consecrated  to  the  service 

of  the  gods  ?  YANKEE  IN  CANADA,  ETC.,  p.  265. 

intellectual        It  is  important  to  preserve  the 

and  moral  .  .  , 

suicide.  mind  s  chastity.  .  .  .  Think  of  ad 
mitting  the  details  of  a  single  case  of  the 
criminal  court  into  our  thoughts,  to  stalk 
profanely  through  their  very  sanctum  sanc 
torum  for  an  hour,  ay,  for  many  hours ! 
to  make  a  very  bar-room  of  the  mind's  in 
most  apartment,  as  if  for  so  long  the  very 
dust  of  the  street  had  occupied  us,  —  the 


IO2      SELECTIONS  FROM   THOREAU. 

very  street  itself,  with  all  its  travel,  its 
bustle,  and  filth,  had  passed  through  our 
thoughts'  shrine  !  Would  it  not  be  an  in 
tellectual  and  moral  suicide  ? 

YANKEE  IN  CANADA,  ETC.,  p.  265. 

Let  your  ^  I  am  to  be  a  thoroughfare,  I 

JTpen  ufthe  prefer  that  it  be  of  the  mountain 
brooks,  Parnassian  streams,  and 
not  the  town  sewers.  There  is  inspiration, 
that  gossip  which  comes  to  the  ear  of  the 
attentive  mind  from  the  courts  of  heaven. 
There  is  the  profane  and  stale  revelation 
of  the  bar-room  and  the  police  court.  The 
same  ear  is  fitted  to  receive  both  commu 
nications.  Only  the  character  of  the  hear 
er  determines  to  which  it  shall  be  opened, 
and  to  which  closed. 

YANKEE  IN  CANADA,  ETC.,  p.  266. 

Science  Even  the  facts  of  science  may 

aKoin-  dust  the  mind  by  their  dryness, 
spirauon.  uniess  they  are  in  a  sense  effaced 
each  morning,  or  rather  rendered  fertile  by 
the  dews  of  fresh  and  living  truth.  Know 
ledge  does  not  come  to  us  by  details,  but 
in  flashes  of  light  from  heaven. 

YANKEE  IN  CANADA,  ETC.,  p.  267. 


SELECTIONS  FROM  THOKEAU.        103 

Political  Do  we  call  this  the  land  of  the 

freedom  but      ...  . 

a  means.  free  ?  .  .  .  What  is  the  value  of 
any  political  freedom  but  as  a  means  to 
moral  freedom  ?  .  .  .  It  is  our  children's 
children  who  may  perchance  be  really  free. 

YANKEE  IN  CANADA,  ETC,  p.  268. 

We  quarter  our  gross  bodies  on  our  poor 
souls,  till  the  former  eat  up  all  the  latter's 

Substance.  YANKEE  IN  CANADA,  ETC.,  p.  268. 

Manners  It  is  the  vice  .  .  .  of  manners 

apart  from  .  -  .  ..         ,      . 

character.  that  they  are  continually  being 
deserted  by  the  character ;  they  are  cast- 
off  clothes  or  shells,  claiming  the  respect 
which  belonged  to  the  living  creature.  .  .  . 
The  man  who  thrusts  his  manners  upon 
me  does  as  if  he  were  to  insist  on  intro 
ducing  me  to  his  cabinet  of  curiosities 
when  I  wished  to  see  himself.  It  was  not 
in  this  sense  that  the  poet  Decker  called 
Christ  "the  first  true  gentleman  that  ever 

breathed.  YANKEE  IN  CANADA,  ETC.,  p.  269. 

The  most          The  chief  want,  in  every  State 
ducuonsof0'  that  I  have  been  into,  was  a  high 
and  earnest  purpose  in  its  inhabi 
tants.  ,      .  When  we   want   culture  more 


104      SELECTIONS  FROM  THOKEAU. 

than  potatoes,  and  illumination  more  than 
sugar-plums,  then  the  great  resources  of  a 
world  are  taxed  and  drawn  out,  and  the 
result,  or  staple  production,  is,  not  slaves, 
nor  operatives,  but  men,  —  those  rare  fruits 
called  heroes,  saints,  poets,  philosophers, 

and  redeemers.          YANKEE  IN  CANADA,  ETC.,  p.  271. 


Truth  and 

institutions. 


3.  snow-drift  is  formed  where 


would  say,  where  there  is  a  lull  of  truth,  an 
institution  springs  up.  But  the  truth  blows 
right  on  over  it,  nevertheless,  and  at  length 

bloWS  it  down.  YANKEE  IN  CANADA,  ETC.,  p.  271. 

The  author-        Poetry   is    so   universally    true 

ship  of  f 

poetry.  and  independent  01  experience 
that  it  does  not  need  any  particular  biog 
raphy  to  illustrate  it,  but  we  refer  it  sooner 
or  later  to  some  Orpheus  or  Linus,  and 
after  ages  to  the  genius  of  humanity,  and 
the  gods  themselves.  WEEK,  P.  102. 


Hours  above  We  should  be  at  the  helm  at 
least  once  a  day.  The  whole  of 
the  day  should  not  be  daytime ;  there 
should  be  one  hour,  if  not  more,  when  the 
day  did  not  bring  forth.  WEEK,  P.  103. 


SELECTIONS  FROM   THOREAU.      1 05 

Read  the  best  books  first,  or  you  may 
not  have  a  chance  to  read  them  at  all. 

WEEK,  p.  103. 

Thehibema-  The  poet  is  he  that  hath  fat 
poet.  enough,  like  bears  and  marmots, 

to  suck  his  claws  all  winter.  He  hiber 
nates  in  this  world,  and  feeds  on  his  own 
marrow,  ...  is  ...  a  sort  of  dormouse 
gone  into  winter  quarters  of  deep  and  se 
rene  thoughts,  insensible  to  surrounding 
circumstances  ;  his  words  are  the  relation 
of  his  oldest  and  finest  memory,  a  wisdom 
drawn  from  the  remotest  experience.  Other 
men  lead  a  starved  existence,  meanwhile, 
like  hawks  that  would  fain  keep  on  the 
wing  and  trust  to  pick  up  a  sparrow  now 
and  then.  WEEK,  P.  106. 

The  rarity  of       A   perfectly  healthy   sentence 

perfect  ex-        .  . 

pression.  is  ...  extremely  rare.  For  the 
most  part  we  miss  the  hue  and  fragrance 
of  the  thought ;  as  if  we  could  be  satisfied 
with  the  dews  of  morning  or  evening  with 
out  their  colors,  or  the  heavens  without 
their  azure.  WEEK,  p.  no. 


106      SELECTIONS  FROM  THOREAU. 


are  Often  struck  by  the 
may'he°p  force  and  precision  of  style  to 
which  hard-working  men,  unprac 
tised  in  writing,  easily  attain,  when  re 
quired  to  make  the  effort  ;  as  if  plainness 
and  vigor  and  sincerity,  the  ornaments  of 
style,  were  better  learned  on  the  farm  and 
in  the  workshop  than  in  the  schools. 

WEEK,  p.  113. 

Hours  of  Some   hours   seem    not   to   be 

resolution.        occasjon      for     any    dccd>      but     fQr 

resolves  to  draw  breath  in.  We  do  not 
directly  go  about  the  execution  of  the  pur 
pose  that  thrills  us,  but  shut  our  doors  be 
hind  us  and  ramble  with  prepared  mind,  as 
if  the  half  were  already  done.  Our  reso 
lution  is  taking  root  or  hold  .  .  .  then,  as 
seeds  first  send  a  shoot  downward,  which 
is  fed  by  their  own  albumen,  ere  they  send 
one  upward  to  the  light.  WEEK,  P.  uS. 

Few  speak  The  scholar  is  not  apt  to  make 
e™ugh  of  his  most  familiar  experience  come 
gracefully  to  the  aid  of  his  ex 
pression.  Very  few  men  can  speak  of 
Nature,  for  instance,  with  any  truth.  They 
overstep  her  modesty  somehow  or  other, 


SELECTIONS  FROM  THOREAU.      IO/ 

and  confer  no  favor.  They  do  not  speak 
a  good  word  for  her.  .  .  .  The  surliness 
with  which  the  woodchopper  speaks  of 
his  woods,  handling  them  indifferently  as 
his  axe,  is  better  than  the  mealy-mouthed 
enthusiasm  of  the  lover  of  nature.  Better 
that  the  primrose  by  the  river's  brim  be  a 
yellow  primrose  and  nothing  more,  than 
that  it  be  something  less.  WEEK,  P.  nS. 

Always  room       A  good  book  will  never  have 

for  a  true  r  . 

book.  been   forestalled,    but    the    topic 

itself  will  in  one  sense  be  new,  and  its 
author,  by  consulting  with  Nature,  will  con 
sult  not  only  with  those  who  have  gone  be 
fore,  but  with  those  who  may  come  after. 
There  is  always  room  and  occasion  enough 
for  a  true  book  on  any  subject,  as  there  is 
room  for  more  light  the  brightest  day,  and 
more  rays  will  not  interfere  with  the  first. 

WEEK,  p.  116. 

Good  and  One  sailor  was  visited   in  his 

bad  sleep.  Breams  this  night  by  the  Evil 
Destinies,  and  all  those  powers  that  are 
hostile  to  human  life,  which  constrain  and 
oppress  the  minds  of  men,  and  make  their 
path  seem  difficult  and  narrow,  and  beset 


IO8      SELECTIONS  FROM   THOREAU. 

with  dangers.  .  .  .  But  the  other  hap 
pily  passed  a  serene  and  even  ambrosial 
or  immortal  night,  and  his  sleep  was  dream 
less,  or  only  the  atmosphere  of  pleasant 
dreams  remained,  —  a  happy,  natural  sleep 
until  the  morning,  —  and  his  cheerful  spirit 
soothed  and  reassured  his  brother,  for 
whenever  they  meet,  the  Good  Genius  is 
sure  to  prevail.  WEEK,  P.  123. 


Thesigmfi-  When  we  are  in  health,  all 
music.  sounds  fife  and  drum  for  us ;  we 
hear  the  notes  of  music  in  the  air,  or  catch 
its  echoes  dying  away  when  we  awake  in 
the  dawn.  Marching  is  when  the  pulse  of 
the  hero  beats  in  unison  with  the  pulse 
of  Nature,  and  he  steps  to  the  measure  of 
the  universe ;  then  there  is  true  courage 
and  invincible  strength.  WEEK,  P.  iss. 


Music  is  the  sound  of  the  universal  laws 
promulgated.  It  is  the  only  assured  tone. 
There  are  in  it  such  strains  as  far  surpass 
any  man's  faith  in  the  loftiness  of  his  des 
tiny.  WEEK,  p.  185. 

History  not        We  should  read  history  as  little 
critically.       critically  as  we  consider  the  land- 


SELECTIONS  FROM   THOREAU.       IOQ 

scape,  and  be  more  interested  by  the  at 
mospheric  tints  and  various  lights  and 
shades  which  the  intervening  spaces  cre 
ate,  than  by  its  groundwork  and  composi 
tion.  It  is  the  morning  now  turned  even 
ing  and  seen  in  the  west,  —  the  same  sun, 
but  a  new  light  and  atmosphere.  ...  In 
reality,  history  fluctuates  as  the  face  of  the 
landscape  from  morning  to  evening.  What 
is  of  moment  is  its  hue  and  color  .  .  . ;  we 
want  not  its  then,  but  its  now.  We  do  not 
complain  that  the  mountains  in  the  horizon 
are  blue  and  indistinct ;  they  are  the  more 
like  the  heavens.  WEEK,  P.  :64. 

Divine  What  are  threescore  years  and 

ten,  hurriedly  and  coarsely  lived, 
to  moments  of  divine  leisure,  in  which  your 
life  is  coincident  with  the  life  of  the  uni 
verse  ?  We  live  too  fast  and  coarsely,  just 
as  we  eat  too  fast,  and  do  not  know  the 
true  savor  of  our  food.  We  consult  our 
will  and  our  understanding  and  the  expec 
tation  of  men,  not  our  genius.  I  can  im 
pose  upon  myself  tasks  which  will  crush 
me  for  life  and  prevent  all  expansion,  and 
this  I  am  but  too  inclined  to  do. 

WINTER,  p.  45. 


1 10      SELECTIONS  FROM  THOREAU. 

The  muse  The  loftiest  strains  of  the  muse 
too  plaintive.  aY^  for  the  most  ^^  sublimely 

plaintive,  and  not  a  carol  as  free  as  na 
ture's.  The  contest  which  the  sun  shines 
to  celebrate  from  morning  to  evening  is 
unsung.  The  muse  solaces  herself,  and  is 
not  ravished,  but  consoled.  .  .  .  But  in 
Homer  and  Chaucer  there  is  more  of  the 
serenity  and  innocence  of  youth  than  in 
the  more  modern  and  moral  poets. 

WEEK,  p.  389. 

A  spomane-  To  the  innocent  there  are  nei- 
cencTabove  ther  cherubims  nor  angels.  At 
rare  intervals  we  rise  above  the 
necessity  of  virtue  into  an  unchangeable 
morning  light,  in  which  we  have  only  to 
live  right  on  and  breathe  the  ambrosial 

air.  WEEK,  p.  390. 

There  is  no  wisdom  that  can  take  place 
of  humanity.  WEEK,  P.  39i. 

Each  deed  Our  whole  lif e  is  taxed  for  the 
oy'thTwhlie  least  thing  well  done.  It  is  its 
net  result.  How  we  eat,  drink, 
sleep,  and  use  our  desultory  hours  now  in 
these  indifferent  days,  with  no  eye  to  ob- 


SELECTIONS  FROM  THOREAU.         Ill 

serve  and  no  occasion  to  excite  us,  deter 
mines  our  authority  and  capacity  for  the 

time  tO  COme.  EARLY  SPRING,  p.  22. 

A  friend's  ^  friend  advises  by  his  whole 
behavior,  and  never  condescends 
to  particulars.  Another  chides  away  a 
fault,  he  loves  it  away.  While  he  sees  the 
other's  error,  he  is  silently  conscious  of  it, 
and  only  the  more  loves  truth  itself,  and 
assists  his  friend  in  loving  it,  till  the  fault 
is  expelled  and  gently  extinguished. 

EARLY  SPRING,  p.  28. 

A  lesson  Simplicity  is  the  law  of  nature 

from  the  .  urn 

flowers.  for  men  as  well  as  for  flowers. 
When  the  tapestry  (corolla)  of  the  nuptial 
bed  (calyx)  is  excessive,  luxuriant,  it  is  un 
productive.  .  .  .  Such  a  flower  has  no  true 
progeny,  and  can  only  be  reproduced  by 
the  humble  mode  of  cuttings  from  its  stem 
or  roots.  .  .  .  The  fertile  flowers  are  single, 

not  double.  EARLY  SPRING,  p.  28. 


The  source         l  have  thoughts,  as  I  walk,  on 

aboveuoguhr-     some  subject  that  is  running  in 

my  head,  but  all  their  pertinence 

seems  gone  before  I  can  get  home  to  set 


112      SELECTIONS  FROM  THOREAU. 

them  down.  The  most  valuable  thoughts 
which  I  entertain  are  anything  but  what  7 
thought.  Nature  abhors  a  vacuum,  and  if 
I  can  only  walk  with  sufficient  carelessness 

I  am  SUre  tO  be  filled.  EARLY  SPRING,  p.  34. 

There  must  There  can  be  no  good  reading 
hearing  to  unless  there  is  good  hearing  also. 

make  a  good     _  . 

reader.  It  takes  two,  at  least,  for  this 
game,  as  for  love,  and  they  must  coope 
rate.  EARLY  SPRING,  p.  52. 

Anadvan-          The    birds    I    heard    [to-day], 

tageofigno-  . 

ranee.  which,  fortunately,  did  not  come 

within  the  scope  of  my  science,  sang  as 
freshly  as  if  it  had  been  the  first  morning 
of  creation,  and  had  for  background  to  their 
song  an  untrodden  wilderness  stretching 
through  many  a  Carolina  and  Mexico  of 

the  SOul.  EARLY  SPRING,  p.  55. 

The  stan-          We  forget  to  strive  and  aspire, 

dard  within 

us.  to  do  better  even  than  is  expected 

of  us.  I  cannot  stay  to  be  congratulated. 
I  would  leave  the  world  behind  me.  .  .  . 
To  please  our  friends  and  relatives  we  turn 
out  our  silver  ore  in  cartloads,  while  we 
neglect  to  work  our  mines  of  gold  known 
only  to  ourselves,  far  up  in  the  Sierras, 


SELECTIONS  FROM  THOREAU.      113 

where  we  pulled  up  a  bush  in  our  mountain 
walk,  and  saw  the  glittering  treasure.  Let 
us  return  thither.  Let  it  be  the  price  of 
our  freedom  to  make  that  known. 

WINTER,  p.  169. 

unconscious  We  reprove  each  other  uncon 
sciously  by  our  own  behavior. 
Our  very  carriage  and  demeanor  in  the 
streets  should  be  a  reprimand  that  will  go 
to  the  conscience  of  every  beholder.  An 
infusion  of  love  from  a  great  soul  gives  a 
color  to  our  faults  which  will  discover  them 
as  lunar  caustic  detects  impurities  in  water. 
The  best  will  not  seem  to  go  contrary  to 
others  ;  but  as  if  they  could  afford  to  travel 
the  same  way,  they  go  a  parallel  but  higher 
course.  Jonson  says,  — 

"  That  to  the  vulgar  canst  thyself  apply, 
Treading  a  better  path,  not  contrary." 

EARLY  SPRING,  p.  56. 

We  must  How  can  our  love  increase  un- 

friend  ars  we  ^ess  °ur  loveliness  increases  also  ? 
We  must  securely  love  each  other 
as  we  love  God,  with  no  more  danger  that 
our  love  be  unrequited  or  ill  bestowed. 
There  is  that  in  my  friend  before  which  I 
must  first  decay  and  prove  untrue. 

EARLY  SPRING,  p.  62. 


114      SELECTIONS  FROM  THOREAU. 

Respectyour  Impulse  is,  after  all,  the  best 
impulses.  linguist;  its  logic,  if  not  confor- 
mable  to  Aristotle,  cannot  fail  to  be  most 
convincing.  The  nearer  we  can  approach 
to  a  complete  but  simple  transcript  of  our 
thought,  the  more  tolerable  will  be  the 
piece,  for  we  can  endure  to  consider  our 
selves  in  a  state  of  passivity  or  in  involun 
tary  action,  but  rarely  can  we  endure  to 
consider  our  efforts,  and  least  of  all,  our 

rare  efforts.  EARLY  SPRING,  p.  77. 

Essential  We  must  not  expect  to  probe 

life  not  to  .  .  e 

be  probed,  with  our  nngcrs  the  sanctuary  of 
any  life,  whether  animal  or  vegetable.  If 
we  do,  we  shall  discover  nothing  but  sur 
face  still.  The  ultimate  expression  or  fruit 
of  any  created  thing  is  a  fine  effluence, 
which  only  the  most  ingenuous  worshiper 
perceives  at  a  reverent  distance  from  its 
surface  even.  .  .  .  Only  that  intellect 
makes  any  progress  toward  conceiving  of 
the  essence  which  at  the  same  time  per 
ceives  the  effluence.  EARLY  SPRING,  p.  83. 

NO  ripeness        There  is  no  ripeness  which  is 

merely  the  ..  .  .    . 

means.  not,  so  to  speak,  something  ulti 
mate  in  itself,  and  not  merely  a  perfected 


SELECTIONS  FROM  THOREAU.      115 

means  to  a  higher  end.  In  order  to  be 
ripe  it  must  serve  a  transcendent  use.  The 
ripeness  of  a  leaf,  being  perfected,  leaves 
the  tree  at  that  point,  and  never  returns 

to  it.  EARLY  SPRING,  p.  84. 

Music  has          A  history  of  music  would  be 

no  history.       jj^  the   history  of    the    f  lltUFC,  f OF 

so  little  past  is  it  and  capable  of  record 
that  it  is  but  the  hint  of  a  prophecy.  ...  It 
has  no  history  more  than  God.  .  .  .  Pro 
perly  speaking,  there  can  be  no  history  but 
natural  history,  for  there  is  no  past  in  the 
soul,  but  in  nature.  ...  I  might  as  well 
write  the  history  of  my  aspirations. 

EARLY  SPRING,  p.  85. 

The  warbie        The  bluebird  on  the  apple-tree, 

of  the  blue-  ,  , .  .  ,  .  . 

bird.  warbling  so  innocently,  to  inquire 

if  any  of  its  mates  are  within  call, — the 
angel  of  the  spring !  Fair  and  innocent, 
yet  the  offspring  of  the  earth.  The  color 
of  the  sky,  above,  and  of  the  subsoil,  be 
neath,  suggesting  what  sweet  and  innocent 
melody,  terrestrial  melody,  may  have  its 
birthplace  between  the  sky  and  the  ground. 

EARLY  SPRING,  p.  no. 


Il6       SELECTIONS  FROM  THOREAU. 

Content-  We  can  only  live  healthily  the 

[heiife^  life  the  gods  assign  us.  I  must 
us'  receive  my  life  as  passively  as  the 
willow  leaf  that  flutters  over  the  brook.  I 
must  not  be  for  myself,  but  God's  work, 
and  that  is  always  good.  .  .  .  My  fate  can 
not  but  be  grand  so.  We  may  live  the  life 
of  a  plant  or  an  animal  without  living  an 
animal  life.  This  constant  and  universal 
content  of  the  animal  comes  of  resting 

quietly  in  God's  palm.  EARLY  SPRING,  p.  in. 

The  delight  My  friend!  my  friend!  ...  To 
courlfwith  address  thee  delights  me,  there 
is  such  clearness  in  the  delivery. 
I  am  delivered  of  my  tale,  which,  told  to 
strangers,  still  would  linger  in  my  life  as  if 
untold,  or  doubtful  how  it  ran. 

EARLY  SPRING,  p.   112. 

Real  wealth.  I  wish  so  to  live  ever  as  to  derive 
my  satisfactions  and  inspirations  from  the 
commonest  events,  every-day  phenomena, 
so  that  what  my  senses  hourly  perceive  in 
my  daily  walk,  the  conversations  of  my 
neighbors,  may  inspire  me,  and  I  may 
dream  of  no  heaven  but  that  which  lies 
about  me.  ...  I  do  not  wish  my  native  soil 


SELECTIONS  FROM  THOREAU.        1 1/ 

to  become  exhausted  and  run  out  through 
neglect.  Only  that  traveling  is  good  which 
reveals  to  me  the  value  of  home,  and  enables 
me  to  enjoy  it  better.  That  man  is  the 
richest  whose  pleasures  are  the  cheapest. 

EARLY  SPRING,  p.  114. 
Solitude  and  MrS-    A-    takes    On    dolefully    On 

account  of  the  solitude  in  which 
she  lives ;  but  she  gets  little  consolation. 
Mrs.  B.  says  she  envies  her  that  retirement. 
Mrs.  A.  is  aware  that  she  does,  and  says  it 
is  as  if  a  thirsty  man  should  envy  another 
the  river  in  which  he  is  drowning.  So  goes 
the  world.  It  is  either  this  extreme  or 
that.  Of  solitude,  one  gets  too  much  ; 

another,  not  enough.  EARLY  SPRING,?.  116. 

Turn  The  scholar  finds  in  his  experi- 

tovvards  the 

light.  ence  some  studies  to  be  most  fer 

tile  and  radiant  with  light,  others,  dry, 
barren,  and  dark.  If  he  is  wise  he  will  not 
persevere  in  the  last,  as  a  plant  in  a  cel 
lar  will  strive  towards  the  light.  .  .  .  Dwell 
as  near  as  possible  to  the  channel  in  which 
your  life  flows.  A  man  may  associate  with 
such  companions,  he  may  pursue  such  em- 


Il8      SELECTIONS  FROM  THOREAU. 

ployments,  as  will  darken  the  day  for  him. 
Men  choose  darkness  rather  than  light. 

EARLY  SPRING,  p.  121. 

The  solitude       How   alone   must   our   life  be 

of  a  human       ,.         ,  , 

soul.  lived.     We  dwell  on  the  seashore, 

and  none  between  us  and  the  sea.  Men 
are  my  merry  companions,  my  fellow-pil 
grims,  who  beguile  the  way,  but  leave  me 
at  the  first  turn  in  the  road,  for  none  are 
traveling  one  road  so  far  as  myself.  .  .  . 
Parents  and  relatives  but  entertain  the 
youth.  They  cannot  stand  between  him 

and  his  destiny.  EARLY  SPRING,  p.  128. 

"  The  king-        I  am  startled  that  God  can  make 

dom  of  God  .    ,  . , , 

cometh  not     me  so  rich,   even  with   my  own 

with  obser-          ,  _  ,      ,  .. 

vation."  cheap  stores.  It  needs  but  a  few 
wisps  of  straw  in  the  sun,  some  small  word 
dropped,  or  that  has  long  lain  silent  in  some 
book.  When  heaven  begins,  and  the  dead 
arise,  no  trumpet  is  blown.  Perhaps  the 

SOUth  wind  will  blow.  EARLY  SPRING,  p.  129. 


Let  love  rest       As  soon  as  I  see  people  loving 

on  common  - 

aspirations,  what  they  see  merely,  and  not 
their  own  high  hopes  that  they  form  of  oth 
ers,  I  pity  them  and  do  not  want  their  love. 


SELECTIONS  FROM   THOREAU.      1 19 

Did  I  ask  thee  to  love  me  who  hate  myself  ? 
No !  Love  that  which  I  love,  and  I  will 

love  thee  that  loves  it.  EARLY  SPRING,  p.  133- 

The  promise       Life  is  grand,  and  so  are  its  en- 

in  the  face  of  r     -n  i     T-     ^ 

nature.  vironments  of  last  and  ruture. 
Would  the  face  of  nature  be  so  serene  and 
beautiful  if  man's  destiny  were  not  equally 

SO  ?  EARLY  SPRING,  p.  133. 

Singleness  What    am    I    gOOd  for  HOW,   who 

of  purpose.  am  stm  searching  after  high 
things,  but  to  hear  and  tell  the  news,  to 
bring  wood  and  water,  and  count  how 
many  eggs  the  hens  lay  ?  In  the  mean 
while  I  expect  my  life  to  begin.  I  will  not 
aspire  longer.  I  will  see  what  it  is  I  would 
be  after.  I  will  be  unanimous. 

EARLY  SPRING,  p.  134. 

water  in  No  sooner  has  the  ice  of  Wal- 

eariy  spring.  den  melted  than  the  wind  begins 
to  play  in  dark  ripples  over  the  face  of  the 
virgin  water.  It  is  affecting  to  see  nature 
so  tender,  however  old,  and  wearing  none 
of  the  wrinkles  of  age.  Ice  dissolved  is 
the  next  moment  as  perfect  water  as  if  it 
had  been  melted  a  million  years.  To  see 


120      SELECTIONS  FROM   THOREAU. 

that  which  was  lately  so  hard  and  immov 
able  now  so  soft  and  impressible!  What  if 
our  moods  could  dissolve  thus  completely  ? 
It  is  like  a  flush  of  life  on  a  cheek  that  was 
dead.  It  seems  as  if  it  must  rejoice  in  its 
own  newly-acquired  fluidity,  as  it  affects 

the  beholder  with  joy.  EARLY  SPRING,  p.  135. 

The  privacy  Our  religion  is  as  unpublic  and 
of  rehgion.  incOmmunicable  as  our  poetical 
vein,  and  to  be  approached  with  as  much 
love  and  tenderness.  EARLY  SPRING,  P.  i37. 

Nobook  As  I  am  going  to  the  woods,  I 

can  match  .  11     i         i     • 

nature.  think  to  take  some  small  book  in 
my  pocket,  whose  author  has  been  there 
already,  whose  pages  will  be  as  good  as  my 
thoughts,  and  will  eke  them  out,  or  show 
me  human  life  still  gleaming  in  the  horizon 
when  the  woods  have  shut  out  the  town. 
But  I  can  find  none.  None  will  sail  as  far 
forward  into  the  bay  of  nature  as  my 
thought.  They  stay  at  home.  I  would  go 
home.  When  I  get  to  the  wood,  their  thin 
leaves  rustle  in  my  fingers.  They  are  bare 
and  obvious,  and  there  is  no  halo  or  haze 
about  them.  Nature  lies  fair  and  far  be 
hind  them  all.  EARLY  SPRING,  p.  137. 


SELECTIONS  FROM  THOREAU.       121 

The  divinity       When  God  made  man  he  re- 

of  the  human  .     . 

eye.  served  some  parts  and  some  rights 

to  himself.  The  eye  has  many  qualities 
which  belong  to  God  more  than  man.  It 
is  his  lightning  which  flashes  therein. 
When  I  look  into  my  companion's  eye,  I 
think  it  is  God's  private  mine.  It  is  a  noble 
feature ;  it  cannot  be  degraded.  For  God 
can  look  on  all  things  undefiled. 

EARLY  SPRING,  p.  138. 

NO  truth  The  only  way  to  speak  the  truth 

without  love.  is  to   speak   iovingiyi     Only  the 

lover's  words  are  heard.  The  intellect 
should  never  speak.  It  does  not  utter  a 

natural  SOUnd.  EARLY  SPRING,  p.  139. 

Disinter-  The  great   and    solitary   heart 

estedlove.        ^  IQVQ  ^^  without  the  knQW_ 

ledge  of  its  object.  It  cannot  have  society 
in  its  love.  It  will  expend  its  love  as  the 
cloud  drops  rain  upon  the  fields  over  which 

it  liOcltS.  EARLY  SPRING,  p.  139. 

Aspirations  I  P^y  that  the  life  of  this  spring 
m  the  spring.  ancj  summer  may  ever  lie  fair  in 

my  memory.  May  I  dare  as  I  have  never 
done.  May  I  persevere  as  I  have  never 


122        SELECTIONS  FROM   THOREAU. 

done.  May  I  purify  myself  anew  as  with 
fire  and  water,  soul  and  body.  May  my 
melody  not  be  wanting  to  the  season.  May 
I  gird  myself  to  be  a  hunter  of  the  beauti 
ful,  that  naught  escape  me.  May  I  attain 
to  a  youth  never  attained. 

EARLY  SPRING,  p.  140. 

Human  and        Men  make  an  arbitrary  code, 

divine  law.       andj  because  jt    js    not   rjgnt)  they 

try  to  make  it  prevail  by  might.  The 
moral  law  does  not  want  any  champion. 
Its  assertors  do  not  go  to  war.  It  was 
never  infringed  with  impunity.  It  is  in 
consistent  to  deny  war  and  maintain  law, 
for  if  there  were  no  need  of  war,  there 

WOUld  be  no  need  Of  law.       EARLY  SPRING,  p.  147. 

The  blue-  How  much  more  habitable  a  few 

atlheendof  birds  make  the  fields!  At  the 
winter  end  of  the  winter,  when  the  fields 
are  bare,  and  there  is  nothing  to  relieve 
the  monotony  of  withered  vegetation,  our 
life  seems  reduced  to  its  lowest  terms.  But 
let  a  bluebird  come  and  warble  over  them, 
and  what  a  change  !  The  note  of  the  first 
bluebird  in  the  air  answers  to  the  purling 
rill  of  melted  snow  beneath.  It  is  evi- 


SELECTIONS  FROM   THOREAU.        123 

dently  soft  and  soothing,  and,  as  surely  as 
the  thermometer,  indicates  a  higher  tem 
perature.  It  is  the  accent  of  the  south 
wind,  its  vernacular.  EARLY  SPRING,  p.  168. 

Nature  on  Each  new  year  is  a  surprise  to 
*haSfc?st  us.  We  find  that  we  had  virtu 
ally  forgotten  the  note  of  each 
bird,  and  when  we  hear  it  again  it  is  re 
membered  like  a  dream,  reminding  us  of  a 
previous  state  of  existence.  How  happens 
it  that  the  associations  it  awakens  are  al 
ways  pleasing,  never  saddening,  reminis 
cences  of  our  sanest  hours.  The  voice  of 
nature  is  always  encouraging. 

EARLY  SPRING,  p.  170. 


A   CONTRIBUTION 

TOWARD  A 

BIBLIOGRAPHY  OF  THOREAU 

"A  truth-speaker  he,  capable  of  the  most  deep  and  strict  conver 
sation  ;  a  physician  to  the  wounds  of  any  soul."  —  EMERSON. 


PREFACE. 


"  IT  is  the  bibliographer  who  of  all  men 
has  most  occasion  to  realize  the  imperfec 
tion  of  human  endeavor.  Completeness  in 
bibliography  is  an  ignis  fatuus  that  eludes 
even  the  closest  pursuit  and  the  most  pains 
taking  endeavor."  If  such  an  adept  as  Mr. 
R.  R.  Bowker  makes  the  above  avowal  (and 
it  may  be  found  in  his  preface  to  the 
"American  Catalogue,"  1 885),  that  fact  must 
plead  for  the  "imperfection"  of  this  bit  of 
'prentice  work,  which  has  been  done  in 
such  moments  as  could  be  stolen  from  the 
imperative  duties  of  an  arduous  profession. 
To  be  suddenly  summoned  from  searching 
a  catalogue  to  soothe  a  colic  may  be  "  busi 
ness  ;  "  it  is  hardly  bibliographing. 

This  "Contribution  "  is  not  the  result  of 
an  "endeavor "  at  "completeness."  It  is 


128  PREFACE. 

simply  a  thank-offering  to  Thoreau's  memo 
ry,  from  one  who  has  been  "  lifted  up  and 
strengthened"  by  his  example.  It  was 
compiled  in  the  hope  that  it  might  facili 
tate  the  study  of,  and  enlarge  an  acquain 
tance  with,  the  author  of  "the  only  book 
yet  written  in  America,  to  my  thinking, 
that  bears  an  annual  perusal."  Standing 
at  Thoreau's  graveside  some  twenty-eight 
years  ago,  Emerson  said,  —  "  The  country 
knows  not  yet,  or  in  least  part,  how  great 
a  son  it  has  lost.  ...  His  soul  was  made 
for  the  noblest  society ;  he  had  in  a  short 
life  exhausted  the  capabilities  of  this  world  ; 
wherever  there  is  knowledge,  wherever 
there  is  virtue,  wherever  there  is  beauty,  he 
will  find  a  home."  There  is  too  much  of 
truth  in  the  fear  that  the  man  so  certified 
"great,  intelligent,  sensual,  avaricious 
America"  knows  not  yet,  or  in  least  part. 
There  is  peril  for  the  soul  in  such  ignorance. 
To  those  unacquainted  with  Thoreau, 
this  "Contribution"  will  afford  an  aid  for 
which  the  compiler  would  long  since  have 


PREFACE.  129 

been  very  grateful.  Whatever  of  worth  it 
may  have  as  a  contribution  is  wholly  due 
to  courtesies  received  from  H.  S.  Salt,  Lon 
don  ;  Geo.  Willis  Cooke ;  Wm.  C.  Lane, 
Harvard  College  Library ;  R.  C.  Davis, 
Librarian  of  the  University  of  Michigan ; 
to  whom  be  thanks. 

ANN  ARBOR,  2$th  May,  1890. 


A   CONTRIBUTION    TOWARD   A 
BIBLIOGRAPHY 

OF 

HENRY   DAVID   THOREAU. 


I. 

PAPERS,  POEMS,   AND   BOOKS   BY   THOREAU. 

1840.  Sympathy.     The  Dial,  i.  71  (July).    Reprinted 
in  the  collection  of  poems   at  the  close    of 
Letters  to  Various  Persons. 

Aulus  Persius  Flaccus.  The  Dial,  i.  117  (July). 
Reprinted  in  A  Week  on  the  Concord  and 
Merrimack  Rivers,  p.  326. 

1841.  Stanzas:  "Nature  doth  have  her  dawn  each 
day."    The  Dial,  i.  314  (January).    Reprinted 
in  A    Week  on  the  Concord  and  Merrimack 
Rivers,  p.  301. 

Sic  Vita.  The  Dial,  ii.  81  (July).  Reprinted 
in  A  Week  on  the  Concord  and  Merrimack 
Rivers,  p.  405. 

Friendship.  The  Dial,  ii.  204  (October).  Re 
printed  under  the  title,  "  Romans,  Country 
men,  and  Lovers,"  in  the  collection  of  poems 
at  the  close  of  Letters  to  Various  Persons  j 
also  in  A  Week  on  the  Concord  and  Merri- 
tnack  Rivers,  p.  304. 


132  BIBLIOGRAPHY. 

1842.  Natural  History  of  Massachusetts.    The  Dial, 
iii.  19  (July).     Reprinted  in  Excursions. 

Prayers.  The  Dial,  iii.  77  (July).  Reprinted 
in  A  Yankee  in  Canada,  with  Anti-Slavery 
and  Reform  Papers. 

The  Black  Knight.  The  Dial,  iii.  180  (Octo 
ber). 

The  Inward  Morning.  The  Dial,  iii.  198  (Oc 
tober).  Reprinted  in  A  Week  on  the  Concord 
and  Merrimack  Rivers,  p.  311. 

Free  Love.  The  Dial,  iii.  199  (October).  Re 
printed  in  A  Week  on  the  Concord  and  Mer 
rimack  Rivers,  p.  296. 

The  Poet's  Delay.  The  Dial,  iii.  200  (Octo 
ber).  Reprinted  in  A  Week  on  the  Concord 
and  Merrimack  Rivers,  p.  364. 

Rumors  from  an  ^Eolian  Harp.  The  Dial.  iii. 
200  (October).  Reprinted  in  A  Week  on  the 
Concord  and  Merrimack  Rivers,  p.  185. 

The  Moon.     The  Dial,  iii.  222  (October). 

To  the  Maiden  in  the  East.  The  Dial,  iii.  222 
(October).  Reprinted  in  A  Week  on  the  Con 
cord  and  Merrimack  Rivers,  p.  54. 

The  Summer  Rain.  The  Dial,  iii.  224  (Octo 
ber).  Reprinted  in  A  Week  on  the  Concord 
and  Merrimack  Rivers,  p.  320. 

1843.  The  Laws  of  Menu.     Selected  by  H.  D.  T. 
The  Dial,  iii.  331  (January). 

The  Prometheus  Bound.  Translated  by  H.  D. 
T.  The  Dial,  iii.  363  (January). 

Anacreon.  With  translations.  The  Dial,  iii. 
484  (April).  Reprinted  in  A  Week  on  the 
Concord  and  Merrimack  Rivers,  p.  238. 


BIBLIOGRAPHY.  133 

To  a  Stray  Fowl.     The  Dial,  iii.  505  (April). 

Orphics:  Smoke,  Haze.  The  Dial,  iii.  505 
(April).  Reprinted  in  the  collection  of  poems 
at  the  close  of  Letters  to  Various  Persons; 
also,  the  former  in  Walden,  p.  271 ;  the  latter 
in  A  Week  on  the  Concord  and  Merrimack 
Rivers,  p.  229. 

Dark  Ages.  The  Dial,  iii.  527  (April).  Re 
printed  in  A  Week  on  the  Concord  and  Mer 
rimack  Rivers,  pp.  164-168. 

A  Winter  Walk.  The  Dial,  iv.  211  (October). 
Reprinted  in  Excursions. 

A  Walk  to  Wachusett.  The  Boston  Miscel 
lany.  Reprinted  in  Excursions. 

The  Landlord.  The  Democratic  Review,  xiii. 
427  (October).  Reprinted  in  Excursions. 

Paradise  (to  be)  Regained.  The  Democratic 
Review,  xiii.  451  (November).  Reprinted  in 
A  Yankee  in  Canada,  with  Anti-Slavery 
and  Reform  Papers. 

1844.  Homer,    Ossian,    Chaucer;    extracts  from  a 
lecture  on  poetry,  read  before  the  Concord 
Lyceum,  November  29,  1843.     The  Dial,  iv. 
290  (January). 

Pindar.  Translations.  The  Dial,  iv.  379  (Jan 
uary)- 

Herald  of  Freedom.  The  Dial,  iv.  507  (April). 
Reprinted  in  A  Yankee  in  Canada,  with 
Anti-Slavery  and  Reform  Papers. 

Fragments  of  Pindar.  The  Dial,  iv.  513 
(April). 

1845.  Wendell  Phillips  before  the  Concord  Lyceum. 
The  Liberator,  March  28.     Reprinted  in  A 


134  BIBLIOGRAPHY. 

Yankee  in  Canada,  with  Anti-Slavery  and 
Reform  Papers. 

1847.  Thomas  Carlyle  and  his  works.     Graham's 
Magazine,  March,  April.     Reprinted    in   A 
Yankee  in  Canada,  with  Anti-Slavery  and 
Reform  Papers. 

1848.  Ktaadn  and  the  Maine  Woods.     The  Union 
Magazine.     Reprinted  in  The  Maine  Woods. 

1849.  A  WEEK   ON  THE  CONCORD  AND   MERRI- 
MACK.     RIVERS.      Boston   and    Cambridge: 
James  Munroe  &  Co.     Reissued  in  1867  by 
Ticknor  &  Fields. 

Resistance  to  Civil  Government.  ^Esthetic 
Papers,  i.  189-211.  Reprinted  with  the 
title  "  Civil  Disobedience  "  in  A  Yankee  in 
Canada,  with  Anti- Slavery  and  Reform 
Papers. 

1853.  Excursion  to  Canada.     Putnam'1  s  Magazine, 
i.   54,   179,  321   (January,  February,  March). 
Chapters  i.,  ii.,  iii.,  of  A  Yankee  in  Canada. 

1854.  WALDEN;  OR,  LIFE  IN  THE  WOODS.     Bos 
ton:     Ticknor  &  Fields.     Reissued  in  1889 
in  two  volumes,  by  Houghton,  Mifflin  &  Co., 
in  The  Riverside  Aldine  Series. 

Slavery  in  Massachusetts ;  an  address  delivered 
at  the  anti-slavery  celebration  at  Framing- 
ham,  Mass.,  July  4.  The  Liberator,  July  21. 
Reprinted  in  A  Yankee  in  Canada,  with 
Anti-Slavery  and  Reform  Papers. 

1855.  Cape   Cod.      Putnam's  Magazine,   v.   632, 
vi.  59,  157  (June,  July,  August).     Chapters  i.- 
iv.  of  Cape  Cod. 

1858.  Chesuncook.     The  Atlantic  Monthly,  ii.   I, 


BIBLIOGRAPHY.  1 3  5 

224,  305  (June,  July,  August).     Reprinted  in 
The  Maine  Woods. 

1859.  A  Plea  for  Captain  John  Brown.     Read  to 
the  citizens  of  Concord,  Mass.,  Sunday  even 
ing,  October  30.    A  Yankee  in  Canada,  with 
A  nil-Slavery  and  Reform  Papers. 

1860.  Reminiscences    of    John    Brown.     Read    at 
North  Elba,  N.  Y.,  July  4.     The  Liberator, 
July  27.     Reprinted  with  the  title  "  The  Last 
Days  of  John  Brown  "  in  A  Yankee  in  Can 
ada,  with  Anti-Slavery  and  Reform  Papers. 

The  Succession  of  Forest  Trees ;  an  address 
read  to  the  Middlesex  Agricultural  Society 
in  Concord,  September.  The  New  York 
Weekly  Tribune,  October  6 ;  also  in  Middle 
sex  Agricultural  Transactions.  Reprinted  in 
Excursions. 

Remarks  at  Concord  on  the  day  of  the  execu 
tion  of  John  Brown.  Echoes  from  Harper's 
Ferry.  Boston :  Thayer  &  Eldridge,  p.  439, 

1862.  Walking.     The  Atlantic  Monthly,   ix.   657 
(June).     Reprinted  in  Excursions. 

Autumnal    Tints.     The  Atlantic  Monthly,  x. 

385  (October).     Reprinted  in  Excursions. 
Wild  Apples.     The  Atlantic  Monthly,  x.  313 

(November).     Reprinted  in  Excursions. 

1863.  Life  without  Principle.     The  Atlantic  Month 
ly,  xii.  484  (October).     Reprinted  in  A  Yan 
kee  in  Canada,  with  Anti-Slavery  and  Re 
form  Papers. 

Night  and  Moonlight.  The  Atlantic  Monthly, 
xii.  579  (November).  Reprinted  in  Excur- 


1 36  BIBLIOGRAPHY, 

EXCURSIONS.  (With  biographical  sketch  by  R. 
W.  Emerson.)  Boston :  Ticknor  &  Fields. 

1864.  THE    MAINE  WOODS.     (Edited   by  W.    E. 
Channing.)      Boston :     Ticknor     &     Fields. 
N.  B.  —  This  volume  contains  The  Allegash 
and  East  Branch,  not  before  printed. 

The  Wellfleet  Oysterman.  The  Atlantic 
Monthly,  xiv.  470  (October).  Reprinted  in 
Cape  Cod. 

The  Highland  Light.  The  Atlantic  Monthly, 
xiv.  649  (December).  Reprinted  in  Cape 
Cod. 

CAPE  COD.  (Edited  by  W.  E.  Channing.)  Bos 
ton:  Ticknor  &  Fields.  [Publisher's  date, 
1865.] 

1865.  LETTERS  TO  VARIOUS   PERSONS.     (Edited 
by  R.  W.  Emerson.)     Boston :     Ticknor  & 
Fields. 

1866.  A   YANKEE   IN   CANADA,  WITH  ANTI-SLA 
VERY   AND   REFORM    PAPERS.     (Edited  by 
W.    E.    Channing.)      Boston :      Ticknor    & 
Fields. 

1878.  April  Days.     The  Atlantic  Monthly,  xli.  445 

(April). 
May  Days.     The  Atlantic  Monthly,  xli.  567 

(May). 
Days  in  June.     The  Atlantic  Monthly,  xli.  71 1 

(June).     Reprinted  in  Summer. 
1881.  EARLY  SPRING  IN  MASSACHUSETTS  :  FROM 

THE    JOURNAL   OF   HENRY    D.   THOREAU. 

(Edited    by    H.    G.    O.    Blake.)      Boston: 

Houghton,  Mifflin  &  Co. 
1884.  SUMMER:    FROM  THE  JOURNAL  OF  HENRY 


BIBLIOGRAPHY.  137 

D.  THOREAU.  (Edited  by  H.  G.  O.  Blake.) 
Boston:  Houghton,  Mifflin  &  Co. 

1885.  Winter  Days.  The  Atlantic  Monthly,  Iv.  79 
(January).  Reprinted  in  Winter,  pp.  81-107. 

1887.  WINTER:  FROM  THE  JOURNAL  OF  HENRY 
D.  THOREAU.  (Edited  by  H.  G.  O.  Blake.) 
Boston:  Houghton,  Mifflin  &  Co.  [Publish 
er's  date,  1888.] 


II. 


BOOKS   WHOLLY   OR   IN   PART   DEVOTED   TO 
THOREAU. 

1855.  Duyckinck,  E.  A.  and  G.  L.  —  Henry  D. 
Thoreart.  CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  LIT 
ERATURE,  ii.  653-656.  New  York:  Charles 
Scribner. 

1857.  Curtis,  G.W. —  Thoreau.  HOMES  OF  AMERI 
CAN  AUTHORS,  pp.  247-248;  250-251.  New 
York :  D.  Appleton  and  Company. 

1863.  Emerson,  R.  W. — Biographical  Sketch.  In 
Thoreau's  EXCURSIONS.  Issued  also  in 
COMPLETE  WORKS,  Riverside  edition,  x.,  pp. 
421-452.  Boston:  Houghton,  Mifflin  &  Co. 

1866.  Alger,  W.  R. —  Thoreau.  THE  SOLITUDES 
OF  NATURE  AND  OF  MAN,  pp.  329-338.  Bos 
ton  :  Roberts  Brothers. 

1868.  Hawthorne,  N.  —  PASSAGES  FROM  THE 
AMERICAN  NOTE-BOOKS,  ii.,  pp.  96-99. 
Boston :  Ticknor  &  Fields. 

1871.  Lowell,  J.  R. —  Thoreau.  MY  STUDY  WIN 
DOWS,  pp.  193-209.  Boston:  James  R.  Os- 
good  &  Co. 


138  BIBLIOGRAPHY. 

1873.  Charming,  W.  E.  —  THOREAU  :  THE  POET- 
NATURALIST.     Boston:  Roberts  Brothers. 
Alcott,  A.  B.  —  Thoreau,  Walden  Pond.     CON 
CORD  DAYS,  pp.   11-20,   259-264.     Boston: 
Roberts  Brothers. 

1877.  Page,  H.  A.  (Dr.  A.  H.  Japp).  —  THOREAU  : 
His  LIFE  AND  AIMS.      Boston:    James    R. 
Osgood  &  Co. 

1878.  Sanborn,     F.     B.  —  MEMOIRS     OF     JOHN 
BROWN,  pp.  45,  49-51.     Concord,  Mass. 

1879.  Higginson,  T.  W.  —  Thoreau.    SHORT  STUD 
IES    OF    AMERICAN    AUTHORS,   pp.    23-31. 
Boston:  Lee  &  Shepard. 

1880.  James,   Jr.,    H.  —  HAWTHORNE.     Ame-ican 
Men    of  Letters,   pp.   93-94.      New    York: 
Harper  and  Brothers. 

1880.  Scudder,  Horace  E. — Henry  David  Thoreau. 
AMERICAN    PROSE,  pp.   296-301.     Boston: 
Houghton,  Mifflin  and  Co. 

1881.  Flagg,  Wilson. —  Thoreau.    HALCYON  DAYS, 
pp.  164-168.     Boston:   Estes  &  Lauriat. 

Cooke,  G.  W.  —  RALPH  WALDO  EMERSON: 
His  LIFE,  WRITINGS,  AND  PHILOSOPHY. 
(Vide  Index.)  Boston:  James  R.  Osgood  & 
Co. 

1882.  Conway,   M.   D.  —  Thoreau.     EMERSON   AT 
HOME  AND  ABROAD,  pp.  279-289.     Boston : 
James  R.  Osgood  &  Co. 

Alcott,  A.  B.  —  SONNETS  AND  CANZONETS. 
Boston :  Roberts  Brothers. 

Nichol,  Prof.  John. —  TJioreau.  AMERICAN- 
LITERATURE:  AN  HISTORICAL  SKETCH, 
pp.  313-321.  Edinburgh:  Adam  and  Charles 
Black. 


BIBLIOGRAPHY.  1 39 

Welsh,  A.  H. —  Thoreau.  DEVELOPMENT  OF 
ENGLISH  LITERATURE  AND  LANGUAGE,  ii., 
pp.  409-414.  Chicago:  S.  C.  Griggs  &  Co. 

Burroughs,  John.  —  T/wreaiis  Wildness.  ES 
SAYS  FROM  THE  Critic,  pp.  9-18.  Boston: 
James  R.  Osgood  &  Co. 

Sanborn,  F.  B.  —  Thoreau' 's  Unpublished  Po 
etry.  ESSAYS  FROM  THE  Critic,  pp.  71-78. 
Boston :  James  R.  Osgood  &  Co. 

Sanborn,  F.  B.  —  Reading  from  Thoreau's 
Manuscripts.  CONCORD  LECTURES  ON  PHI 
LOSOPHY,  pp.  124-126.  Cambridge:  Moses 
King. 

1883.  Sanborn,    F.    B.  — HENRY    D.    THOREAU. 
American  Men  of  Letters.     Boston:  Hough- 
ton,  Mifflin  &  Co. 

1884.  Hawthorne,     Julian.  —  NATHANIEL     HAW 
THORNE   AND   His   WIFE:   A   BIOGRAPHY. 
(Vide   Index.)     Cambridge:    James    R.    Os 
good  &  Co. 

1885.  Sanborn,    F.   B.  —  LIFE   AND    LETTERS   OF 
JOHN  BROWN.    (Vide  Index.)    Boston:  Rob 
erts  Brothers. 

Holmes,  O.  W.  —  RALPH  WALDO  EMERSON. 
(Vide  Index.)  American  Men  of  Letters. 
Boston  :  Houghton,  Mifflin  &  Co. 

1886.  Stevenson,  R.  L.  —  Henry  David  Thoreau: 
His   Character   and  Opinions.      FAMILIAR 
STUDIES  OF  MEN  AND  BOOKS,  pp.  129-171. 
London:  Chatto  &  Windus. 

Dircks,  W.  H. —  Thoreau.  An  Introductory 
Note  in  WALDEN.  Camelot  Classics.  Lon 
don  :  Walter  Scott. 


140  BIBLIOGRAPHY. 

Garnett,  Richard.  —  An  Introductory  Note  in 
MY  STUDY  WINDOWS.  Camelot  Classics. 
London :  Walter  Scott. 

1887.  Cabot,  James  Elliot.  —  A  MEMOIR  OF  RALPH 
WALDO  EMERSON,  i., p.  282.  Boston:  Hough- 
ton,  Mifflin  &  Co. 

Haskins,  David  Green.  —  RALPH  WALDO 
EMERSON:  His  MATERNAL  ANCESTORS, 
pp.  119-122.  Boston:  Cupples,  Upham  & 
Co. 

Whipple,  E.  P.  —  AMERICAN  LITERATURE  AND 
OTHER  PAPERS,  pp.  111-112.  Boston :  Tick- 
nor  &  Co. 

Beers,  Prof.  Henry  A.  —  Henry  David  Thoreau. 
AN  OUTLINE  SKETCH  OF  AMERICAN  LIT 
ERATURE,  pp.  143-148.  New  York :  Chautau- 
qua  Press. 

Carpenter,  Edward.  —  ENGLAND'S  IDEAL,  pp. 
13-14.  London  :  Swan,  Sonnenschein,  Low- 
rey  &  Co. 

1888.  Garnett,  Richard.  —  LIFE  OF  RALPH  WALDO 
EMERSON,  pp.  157-159.     Great  Writers'  Se 
ries.     London :  Walter  Scott. 

Besant,  Walter.  —  THE  EULOGY  OF  RICHARD 
JEFFERIES,  pp.  221-225.  London :  Long 
mans,  Green  &  Co. 

Salt,  H.  S.  —  LITERARY  SKETCHES.  London: 
Swan,  Sonnenschein,  Lowrey  &  Co. 

1889.  Emerson,  E.  W.  —  EMERSON  IN  CONCORD. 
(Vide   Index.)     Boston:    Houghton,    Mifflin 
&  Co. 

Burroughs,  John.  —  INDOOR  STUDIES,  pp.  1-42. 
Boston:  Houghton,  Mifflin  &  Co. 


BIBLIOGRAPHY.  1 4 1 

Dircks,  W.  H. —  Thoreau.  A  Preparatory 
Note  in  A  WEEK  ON  THE  CONCORD  AND 
MERRIMAC  \_sic~\  RIVERS,  pp.  v-xviii.  Game- 
lot  Classics.  London :  Walter  Scott. 

Frothingham,  O.  B. —  Thoreau,  Henry  David. 
CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  AMERICAN  BIOGRAPHY, 
vi.,  pp.  loo-ioi.  New  York:  D.  Appleton 
and  Company. 

Hubert,  Jr.,  Philip  G.  —  Henry  David  Thoreau. 
LIBERTY  AND  A  LIVING,  pp.  171-190.  New 
York  and  London:  G.  P.  Putnam's  Sons. 
1890.  Jones,  Dr.  S.  A. — THOREAU:  A  GLIMPSE. 
WITH  A  BIBLIOGRAPHY.  Ann  Arbor:  No 
publisher. 

Ellis,  Havelock.  • — THE  NEW  SPIRIT,  pp.  90- 
99.  London:  George  Bell  &  Sons. 

Charles  J.  Woodbury.  —  Thoreau.  TALKS 
WITH  RALPH  WALDO  EMERSON,  pp.  69-94. 
London :  Kegan  Paul,  Trench,  Triibner  & 
Co.,  Ltd. 

The  same.     New  York :  Baker  &  Taylor  Co. 

Salt,  H.  S.  —  THE  LIFE  OF  HENRY  DAVID 
THOREAU.  London:  Richard  Bentley  & 
Son. 


III. 


MAGAZINE   ARTICLES. 

1849.  George  Ripley.  —  A  Week  on  the  Concord 
and  Merrimack  Rivers.  The  New  York 
Tribune. 

J.  R.  Lowell.  —  A  Week  on  the  Concord  and 
Merrimack  Rivers.  Massachusetts  Quar 
terly  Review,  iii.,  ix.  (December),  40-51. 


142  BIBLIOGRAPHY. 

A  Week  on  the  Concord  and  Merrimack  Riv 
ers.  Athenceum  (October  27). 

1854.  A.  P.   Peabody.  —  Walden  :    or  Life  in   the 
Woods.      North  American   Review,   bcxix. 

536. 

C.  F.  Briggs.  —  A  Yankee  Diogenes.  Put- 
Hani's  Magazine,  iv.  443. 

1855.  Edwin    Morton.  —  Thoreau  and  his  Books. 
The  Harvard  Magazine,  i.  No.  ii.  (January), 
87-99.    \Vide  Sanborn's   Thoreau.     "Ameri 
can  Men  of  Letters,"  pp.  195-199.] 

A  Rural  Humbug.     Knickerbocker  Magazine, 

xlv.  235. 

1857.  An  American   Diogenes.     Chambers'  Edin 
burgh  Journal,  xxviii.  330. 
1862.  G.  W.  Curtis.  —  Reminiscences  of  Thoreau. 

Harper's  Magazine,  xxv.  270. 
R.  W.  Emerson.  —  Thoreau.    Atlantic  Month 
ly,  x.  239. 

1864.  T.W.  Higginson.  —  The  Maine  \Voods.     At 
lantic  Monthly,  xiv.  386. 

The  Transcendentalists  of  Concord.  Eraser's 
Magazine,  Ixx.  245.  [Same  article  in  Eclec 
tic  Magazine,  Ixiii.  231  ;  LittelFs  Living 
Age,  Ixxxiii.  99,  1 78.] 

An  American  Rousseau.  Saturday  Review 
(December  3). 

1865.  T.  W.    Higginson.  —  Cape    Cod.      Atlantic 
Monthly,  xv.  381. 

T.  W.  Higginson.  —  Letters  to  Various  Persons. 

Atlantic  Monthly,  xvi.  504. 
J.  A.  Weiss.  —  Thoreau.     Christian  Examiner, 

Ixxix.  96. 


BIBLIOGRAPHY.  143 

W.  R.  Alger.  —  Thoreau.  Monthly  Religious 
Magazine,  xxxv.  382. 

M.  D.  Conway.  —  Thoreau.  Eraser's  Maga 
zine,  Ixxiii.  447.  [Same  article  in  Eclectic 
Magazine,  Ixvii.  180  (1886);  Every  Satur 
day,  i.  622  (1886).] 

J.  R.Lowell.  —  "Letters  to  Various  Persons." 
By  Henry  D.  Thoreau.  North  American 
Review,  ci.  597. 

1869.  G.   W.  Curtis.  —  Further   Reminiscences  of 
Thoreau.     Harper's  Magazine,  xxxviii.  415. 

1870.  J.  R.  Lowell.  —  Thoreau.     Every  Saturday, 
x.  1 66. 

1873.  Thoreau.   British  Quarterly,  lix.  181.    [Same 
article   in    Littell's    Living  Age,  cxx.  643 ; 
Eclectic  Magazine,  Ixxxii.  305.] 

1874.  Henry  Thoreau,  the  Poet-Naturalist.     Brit 
ish  Quarterly  (January). 

Ellery  Channing's  Thoreau.  The  Nation 
(January  8). 

1875.  Miss    H.    R.     Hudson.  —  Concord    Books. 
Harper's  Magazine,  li.  18. 

1877.  M.Collins.  —  Thoreau.     Dublin  University 
Magazine,  xc.  610. 

T.  Hughes.  —  Study  of  Thoreau.  Eclectic  Mag 
azine,  xc.  1 14. 

Theodore  Watts.  —  Article  in  Athetuzum  (No 
vember  17). 

1878.  J.  V.  O'Connor. —  Henry    D.    Thoreau   and 
New  England  Transcendentalism.     Catholic 
World,  xxvii.  289. 

1879.  The  Pity  and  Humor  of  Thoreau.     LitteWs 
Living  Age,  cxlvi.  190. 


144  BIBLIOGRAPHY. 

R.  L.  Stevenson.  —  Henry  David  Thoreau  :  His 
Character  and  Opinions.  Cornhill  Maga 
zine,  xli.  665.  [Same  article  in  L itteir s  Liv 
ing  Age,  cxlvi.  179;  Eclectic  Magazine,  xcv. 
257  (1880).] 

1880.  W.  S.    Kennedy.  —  A     New     Estimate     of 
Henry  D.  Thoreau.     Penn  Monthly,  xi.  794. 

Philosophy  at  Concord.  The  Nation  (Septem 
ber  2). 

W.  S.  Kennedy.  —  A  New  Estimate  of  Tho 
reau.  Penn  Monthly,  ii.  794. 

1881.  Thoreau's  Portrait.     By  himself.     The  Liter 
ary  World  (Boston),  xii.  1 16-1 17  (March  26). 

F.  B.  Sanborn.  —  Henry  David  Thoreau.  The 
Harvard  Register,  iii.  214-217  (April).  Por 
trait. 

1882.  John  Burroughs.  —  Henry  D.  Thoreau.     The 
Century,  ii.  (New  Series),  368. 

John  Burroughs.  —  Thoreau's  Wildness.  Critic, 
i.  74. 

F.  B.  Sanborn.  —  Thoreau's  Unpublished  Po 
etry.  Critic,  i.  75. 

Portraits  of  Thoreau  with  a  Beard.     Critic,  i. 

95- 
Henry  D.  Thoreau :  Sanborn's  Life  of.     The 

Nation,  xxxv.  34. 

Henry  D.  Thoreau:  Sanborn's  Life  of.  Lit 
erary  World  (Boston),  xiii.  227. 

Henry  D.  Thoreau  :  Sanborn's  Life  of.  Athe- 
naum,  ii.  (of  the  year),  558. 

J.  A.  Janvier.  —  Henry  D.  Thoreau  :  Sanborn's 
Life  of.  American,  iv.  218. 

Henry  D.  Thoreau :  Sanborn's  Life  of.  Aca 
demy,  ii.  271. 


BIBLIOGRAPHY.  145 

Theodore  Watts.  —  Article  in  Athenceum  (Oc 
tober  28). 

1883.  H.  N.  Powers.— H.  D.  Thoreau.     Dial  (Chi 
cago),  iii.  70. 

Henry  D.  Thoreau.     Spectator,  Ivi.  239. 

1884.  Walter  Lewin.  —  "Summer:   From  the  Jour 
nal   of   Henry  D.   Thoreau."     The  Nation, 
xxvi.  193. 

"  Summer :  From  the  Journal  of  Henry  D.  Tho 
reau."  Literary  World  (Boston),  xv.  223. 

1885.  Henry  D.  Thoreau.     Spectator,  Iviii.  122. 

J.  Benton.  —  Thoreau's    Poetry.      Lippincott 's 

Magazine,  xxxvii.  491. 
G.    Willis    Cooke.  —  The    Dial.     Journal    of 

Speculative  Philosophy  (July). 

1886.  H.    S.    Salt.  —  Henry  D.  Thoreau.     Temple 
Bar,  Ixxviii.  369.     Reprinted,  1888,  in  Liter 
ary  Sketches,  by  H.  S.  Salt.     London :  Swan, 
Sonnenschein,  Lowrey  &  Co. 

1887.  H.  S.  Salt. —  Henry   D.  Thoreau.     Eclectic 
Magazine,  cviii.  89. 

H.  S.  Salt.  —  Henry  D.  Thoreau.  The  Critic, 
ii.  276,  289.  From  Temple  Bar, 

A.  H.  Japp.  — Henry  David  Thoreau.  The 
Welcome  (November). 

1888.  Henry  D.  Thoreau.     Good  Words,  xxix.  445. 
Grant   Allen.  —  A  Sunday  at  Concord.     Fort 
nightly  Review  (May). 

1 889.  John  Burroughs.  —  Henry  D.  Thoreau.  Chau- 
tauquan,  ix.  530. 

"  Week  on  the  Concord  and  Merrimack  Rivers." 
Saturday  Review,  Ixviii.  195. 

1890.  S.A.Jones.  —  Thoreau:    A  Glimpse.     The 
Unitarian,  v.  2,  3, 4  (February,  March,  April). 


146  BIBLIOGRAPHY. 

H.  S.  Salt.—  Thoreau's  Poetry.  The  Art  Re 
view  (London),  i.  5  (May). 

C.  J.  Woodbury.  —  Emerson's  Talks  with  a 
College  Boy.  The  Century  (February). 


INDEX. 


ACTIVITY,  be  warmed  by,  80. 

Actual,  the  ideal  needs  but  slight 
support  in  the,  65. 

Adventure,  an,  in  the  mind  rather 
than  in  the  thing  done,  80. 

Advice,  a  friend's,  HI. 

Adviser,  the  true,  75. 

Affairs,  slavery  to,  14;  life  not  to 
be  lost  in  the  complexity  of,  16 ; 
life  wasted  in,  17  ;  the  mind  not 
to  be  desecrated  by  gossip  and, 
101. 

Affection,  the  reserve  of,  37 ;  and 
sloth,  do. 

Aim,  the  higher  the,  the  more  ear 
nest  must  be  the  work,  71 ;  the 
constant  elevation  of  our,  96. 

Animal  food  offends  the  imagina 
tion,  6. 

Appeal,  to  the  highest,  direct,  45 ; 
to  the  highest  within  you,  68. 

Appetite,  the  quality  of  the, 
makes  the  sensualist,  8. 

Appreciation,  the  best,  is  discrim 
inating,  S3- 

Aspirations,  a  friend  cherishes 
one's  highest,  38 ;  we  can  re 
spect  our,  44 ;  the  helpful  friend 
encourages  our,  65 ;  let  love 
rest  on  common,  118;  in  the 
spring,  121. 

Authorship  of  poetry,  the,  104. 

Awake,  morning  is  whenever  we 
are  truly,  15  ;  no  one  is  thor 
oughly,  16. 

Battle  in  behalf  of  sane  thinking, 

the,  81. 
Beasts,  delicacy  of  the  distinction 

between  men  and,  9. 
Beauty,  give  to  the  day,  from  the 

beauty  within,  16 ;  unconscious 


ness  of,  70 ;  the,  or  misery,  of 
life  in  our  thoughts,  83. 

Bluebird,  the  warble  of  the,  115, 
122. 

Body,  care  for  the,  compared  with 
care  for  the  soul,  64 ;  a  warm, 
and  a  cold  spirit,  69 ;  eats  up 
the  soul's  substance,  103. 

Book,  always  room  for  a  true,  107 ; 
cannot  match  nature,  120. 

Books,  how  to  read  the  heroic, 
20 ;  how  true  ones  should  be 
read,  21;  wildness  of  the  best, 
91 ;  read  the  best  first,  105. 

Border  life  between  nature  and 
society,  a,  92. 

Bow,  a,  which  no  humbler  archer 
can  bend,  72. 

Bread,  the  true,  45  ;  the  taste  of 
that  which  we  earn,  46 ;  to  truly 
earn  our,  we  must  satisfy  God 
for  it,  64 ;  better  starve  than 
lose  innocence  in  getting,  98. 

Burdens,  all,  become  light  to  the 
courageous,  74. 

Cares,  worldly,  forgotten  in  a  true 
walk,  88. 

Character,  work  essential  to,  29; 
the  victory  of,  29 ;  manners 
apart  from,  103. 

Charity  which  hides  a  multitude 
of  sins,  overflowing  love  the, 
12. 

Classics,  what  are  the,  21. 

Cold  and  hunger,  07. 

Companionship,  the  most  satis 
factory,  4. 

Complaint,  the  shallowness  of, 
86. 

Contentment  with  the  life  as 
signed  us,  116. 


148 


INDEX. 


Convictions,  our  deepest,  un 
changeable,  79. 

Courage,  74,  85. 

Creation  a  poem  to  open  ears, 
the,  14. 

Crop,  the  best,  which  a  farm  af 
fords,  13. 

Culture,  humility  enriches  the 
soul  more  than,  27. 

Darkness,  pondering  over  the 
deeds  of,  87. 

Dawn,  expectation  of  the,  16; 
more  day  to,  29;  the  inward, 
40;  the  true,  69. 

Deed,  each,  determined  by  the 
whole  life,  no. 

Demand  we  make  upon  each 
other,  the  low,  99. 

Differences,  friends  must  be  si 
lent  about  constitutional,  39 ; 
the  real,  between  friends  can 
not  be  explained  away,  39. 

Dilettanteism,  71. 

Dishonesty  worse  than  depen 
dence,  26. 

Dissipation,  one's  proper  work 
and,  86. 

Distinction  between  men  and 
beasts,  the  delicacy  of  the,  9. 

"  Do  what  you  love,"  44. 

Dreadful  thing,  the,  not  outside 
of  us,  75. 

Dream,  realize  your,  24 ;  our 
faintest,  points  to  the  solidest 
reality,  43. 

Dreams,  the  realization  of,  43  ; 
the  solidest  facts  that  we  know, 
43-  . 

Dreariness,  outward,  90. 

Earnest,  the,  not  hindered  by  tri 
fles,  54. 

Earning  a  living,  the  delight  of 
really,  46  ;  earning  money  mere 
ly,  the  evil  of,  95. 

Earth  and  heaven,  the  laws  of, 
harmonize,  48. 

Economy,  the  only  cure  for  the 
nation,  as  for  the  household, 
>7- 

El  Dorado,  a  man's,  is  where  he 
lives,  81. 

Elevation  of  our  aim,  the  con 
stant,  96. 

Elysium  or  Tophet,  a  man's,  in 
himself,  84. 

Employment,  exalted,  51. 


Enjoyment,  the  true,  89. 
Enjoyments,    poverty    need    not 

take  from  us  the  purest,  26. 
Estrangement,  33. 
Exercise,  true  walking  is  not  for, 

88. 
Existence,  gratitude  for  the  sense 

of,  78. 

Expectations,  divine,  51. 
Experience,  a  glorious,  cannot  be 

left  behind,  54. 
Expression,  extravagance  of,  24; 

the  rarity  of  perfect,  105. 
Eye,  the  human,  56. 

Failure,  real  success  or,  is  in  our 
thoughts,  82. 

Faith  is  earned  by  faithfulness, 
47- 

Faithfulness  rather  than  know 
ledge  saves  the  soul,  63. 

False  position,  why  we  are  com 
monly  in  a,  25. 

Farm,  the  best  crop  which  one 
affords,  13. 

Fastidious,  one  should  be  ex 
tremely,  98. 

Faults,  the  toleration  of,  an  ob 
stacle  to  friendship,  34 ;  the,  of 
our  friends  must  be  lost  in 
love,  39 ;  the  true  lover  would 
not  hide  his,  59. 

Fidelity  in  work,  28. 

Flower,  a,  the  symbol  of  pure 
love,  62. 

Flowers,  a  lesson  from  the,  in. 

Freedom,  political,  but  a  means, 
103. 

Friend,  the  actual,  but  a  sugges 
tion  of  the  ideal,  30;  nourishes 
the  soul,  30;  the  true  educator, 
31 ;  the  only  radical  reformer, 
31 ;  associated  with  our  choi 
cest  thought,  34  ;  no  slight  ob 
stacle  can  keep  one  from  a,  35 ; 
cherishes  one's  highest  aspira 
tions,  38  ;  the  faults  of,  must 
be  lost  in  love,  39;  leaves  the 
sweetest  consolation  at  his 
death,  41  ;  enhances  every 
thing,  60;  the  helpful,  encour 
ages  our  aspirations,  65 ;  does 
not  limit  our  vision,  73  ;  we 
must  love  our,  as  we  love  God, 
113;  the  delight  of  intercourse 
with  a,  116. 

Friends,  are  not  selected,  33  ;  not 
anxious  to  please  each  other, 


INDEX. 


149 


33 ;  help  each  other's  loftiest 
dreams,  33  ;  good  will  is  neces 
sary,  not  conscious,  between, 
34 ;  do  not  ask  to  be  appreci 
ated,  37;  silence  is  understood 
between,  37;  must  be  silent 
about  constitutional  differ 
ences,  39 ;  the  real  differences 
between,  cannot  be  explained 
away,  39;  civility  between,  41 ; 
he  who  obeys  his  genius  can 
not  lose  his,  52  ;  deal  in  pure 
truth  with  each  other,  61  ; 
must  meet  erectly,  68 ;  found 
in  solitude,  81. 

Friendship,  a  thing  outside  of  hu 
man  institutions,  30  ;  the  dream 
of  all,  30;  no  respecter  of  sex, 
34 ;  the  toleration  of  faults  an 
obstacle  to,  34;  the  purest,  the 
most  unconscious,  35  ;  the  lan 
guage  of,  35  ;  requires  wisdom 
as  well  as  tenderness,  35 ;  is  not 
conscious  kindliness,  35;  is  in 
the  interest  of  humanity,  36  ;  are 
any  noble  enough  for  a  lasting? 
36 ;  only  between  what  is  high 
est  in  each,  38  ;  and  the  love  of 
nature  harmonize,  40 ;  in  na 
ture,  53. 

Genius,  the  slightest  intimations 
of  one's,  to  be  regarded,  7  ;  the 
organs  of  one's,  reinvigorated 
by  healthful  sleep,  15  ;  the  mis 
ery  of  disobedience  to  our,  47  ; 
he  who  obeys  his,  cannot  lose 
his  friends,  52. 

Getting  a  living,  living  and,  should 
be  alike  beautiful,  97;  the  or 
dinary  modes  of,  hostile  to  true 
life,  97. 

God  most  truly  found  when  not 
consciously  sought,  49. 

Gold,  or  wisdom,  97  ;  where  alone 
the  true,  is  to  be  found,  67. 

Good  will  is  necessary,  not  con 
scious,  between  friends,  34. 

Goodness,  unconscious,  87. 

Gossip  and  affairs,  the  mind  not 
to  be  desecrated  by,  101. 

Grade  the  ground  before  you 
build,  84. 

Gratitude  for  the  sense  of  exis 
tence,  78. 

Hearing,  there  must  be  good,  to 
make  a  good  reader,  112. 


Heart,  the,  forever  inexperienced, 

29. 
Heaven,  the  purest  love  a  glimpse 

of,  32  ;   the  laws  of  earth  and, 

harmonize,  48. 

Hebe  preferred  to  Hygeia,  6. 
Hibernation  of  the  poet,  the,  105. 
Highest,  aim    ever  at    the,   25  ; 

wealth  does  not  help  us  in  the 

pursuit  of  the,  27  ;  within  you, 

appeal  to  the,  68. 
History  not  to  be  read  critically, 

108. 
Hope,  for  ourselves,  54;  the  great, 

that  gives  value  to  life,  93. 
Hospitality,  in  manners,   not   in 

"entertainment,"  28;  the  cost 

of,  to  our  best  thoughts,  82. 
Hours,  above  time,  104;  of  reso 
lution,  106. 
Human  race,  sympathy  of  nature 

with  the,  5. 
Humanity  before  Nature,  74;  no 

wisdom  can  take  the  place  of, 

no. 
Humility  enriches  the  soul  more 

than  culture,  27. 
Hunger,  and  thirst  of  body  and 

soul,  64;  and  cold,  97. 
Hyena,  a,  more  easily  tamed  than 

a  friend,  40. 

Ideal,  our,  shames  our  best  ef 
forts,  52 ;  the,  needs  but  slight 
support  in  the  actual,  65  ;  how 
the  ideal  transfigures  a  person, 
66. 

Ideas,  success  comes  from  devo 
tion  to,  85. 

Ignorance,  knowledge  sometimes 
worse  than,  91  ;  an  advantage 
of,  1 12. 

Imagination,  animal  food  offends 
the,  6  ;  must  not  be  offended  in 
love,  58. 

Immortality,  mortality  and,  20. 

Impulses,  respect  vour,  114. 

Industry,  the  comfort  of,  69. 

Influence,  unconscious,  53. 

Innocence,  a  spontaneous,  above 
virtue,  no. 

Inspiration,  through  the  palate, 
8 ;  science  should  be  allied  to, 
102. 

Institutions,  truth  and,  104. 

Intellect,  use  of  the,  19. 

Intercourse,  too  much  shallow,  4  ; 
shallow,  100. 


INDEX. 


Invitation,  the,  of  morning,  14; 
genuine,  35. 

Inward  life,  we  should  be  awak 
ened  each  morning  by  new,  15. 

Justice,  society  content  with  a 
too  narrow,  32. 

Kingdom  of  God,  the,  cometh  not 
with  observation,  118. 

Know  thyself,  23. 

Knowledge,  faithfulness  saves  the 
soul  rather  than,  63 ;  some 
times  worse  than  ignorance, 
91  ;  aim  above,  92  ;  activity, 
free  and  loving,  the  highest, 
92. 

Labor,  how  physical,  may  help 
the  writer,  106. 

Landscape,  nature  prevails  over 
man  in  a  large,  $9. 

Language  of  religion,  religion 
without  the,  99. 

Law,  if  ye  be  led  by  the  spirit,  ye 
are  not  under  the,  45  ;  human 
and  divine,  122. 

Laws,  the,  of  earth  and  heaven 
harmonize,  48. 

Leisure,  the  glory  of,  94;  divine, 
109. 

Life,  the  moral  quality  of  nature 
and,  8  ;  strike  at  the  root  of  so 
cial  ills  by  purifying  your  own, 
ii  ;  make  the  most  of  what  is 
good  in,  14  ;  a  new,  each  day, 
14;  we  should  be  awakened 
each  morning  by  new  inward, 
15;  real,  16;  not  to  be  lost  in 
the  complexity  of  affair:;,  16 ; 
wasted  in  affairs,  17  ;  make  the 
best  of  your  own,  26;  no  real, 
without  love,  40  ;  simplify  the 
problem  of,  42 ;  can  express 
whatever  words  can,  44 ;  cling 
to  the  thread  of,  47  ;  a  balanced, 
48  ;  too  high  a  demand  cannot 
be  made  upon,  50 ;  danger  of 
undervaluing,  50  ;  wealth  com 
plicates  the  problem  of,  63 ; 
simplicity  of,  not  an  end,  but  a 
means,  76 ;  the  beauty  or  mi 
sery  of,  in  our  thoughts,  83  ; 
consists  with  wildness,  90;  the 
great  hope  that  gives  value  to, 
93 ;  out-door,  94  ;  sacrificed  to 
the  newspaper,  100  ;  each  deed 
determined  by  the  whole,  no; 


essential,  not  to  be  probed,  114; 
contentment  with  that  assigned 
us,  116. 

Light,  turn  towards  the,  117. 

Live  deliberately,  19. 

Lives,  we  must  account  for  our, 
76 ;  the  doubleness  of  our,  78. 

Living,  plain,  17;  the  delight  of 
really  earning  a,  46 ;  and  get 
ting  a  living  should  be  alike 
beautiful,  97. 

Loneliness,  the,  of  false  society, 

72- 

Love,  overflowing,  the  charity 
which  hides  a  multitude  of  sins, 
12;  hearty  truth  is  one  with, 
32  ;  the  purest,  a  glimpse  of 
heaven,  32  ;  a  hero's,  delicate 
as  a  maiden's,  34;  no  real  life 
without,  40  ;  is  implacable,  42  ; 
wisdom  and,  essential  to  each 
other,  55  ;  should  be  ascend 
ing,  57  ;  shun  a  descending,  57  ; 
true,  most  clear-sighted,  57;  the 
imagination  must  not  be  of 
fended  in,  58  ;  demands  the  ut 
most  directness,  59 ;  no  lower 
engagement  can  stand  in  the 
way  of,  59 ;  no  treasure  to  be 
compared  with,  60 ;  its  object 
expands,  60  ;  genuine,  elevates 
and  strengthens,  61  ;  must  be 
vigilant  to  retain  its  purity,  62  ; 
a  flower  the  symbol  of  pure, 
62  ;  the  joy  of,  and  of  intel 
lectual  perception,  62;  pure, 
the  radical  reformer,  63  ;  not 
to  be  doubted,  87 ;  let  it  rest 
on  common  aspiration,  118; 
no  truth  without,  121 ;  disinter 
ested,  121. 

Lover,  the  most  ardent,  a  little 
reserved,  56  ;  the,  hears  things, 
not  words,  58;  the  true,  would 
not  hide  his  faults,  59. 

Lovers  must  understand  each 
other  without  words,  58. 

Man,  the  earnest,  irresistible,  47', 
as  a,  thinketh,  so  is  he,  52; 
never  discovers  anything  but 
himself,  85 ;  the  truly  efficient, 

95- 
Mankind,  the  art  of,  is  to  polish 

the  world,  71. 
Manners,   hospitality   in,  not   in 

"  entertainment,"    28  ;      apart 

from  character,  103. 


INDEX. 


Marriage,  both  common  and  di 
vine  sense  should  be  consulted 
in,  57. 

Marriages,  the  rarity  of  real,  56. 

Melancholy,  yield  not  to,  in  the 
upward  path,  51. 

Men,  and  beasts,  delicacy  of  the 
distinction  between,  9  ;  ask  too 
seldom  to  be  nobly  dealt  with, 
31  ;  may  punish  us  for  satisfy 
ing  God,  64  ;  the  limited  views 
of,  98. 

Mind,  an  adventure  in  the,  rather 
than  in  the  thing  done,  80  ;  not 
to  be  desecrated  by  gossip  and 
affairs,  101  ;  let  your,  be  open 
to  the  best,  102. 

Money,  not  necessary  for  the  soul, 
27  ;  the  evil  of  earning,  merely, 
95- 

Moods,  work  in  spite  of,  72. 

Moral  quality  of  nature  and  life, 
the,  8. 

Morning,  the  invitation  of,  14  ;  is 
whenever  we  are  truly  awake, 
'5- 

Mortality  and  immortality,  20. 

Mountains,  the,  within  us,  77. 

Muse,  the,  should  lead,  the  un 
derstanding  follow,  49  ;  too 
plaintive,  no. 

Music,  you  hear,  step  to  the,  24  ; 
exalting  effect  of,  41  ;  the  sig 
nificance  of,  108  ;  the  sound  of 
the  universal  laws  promulgated, 
1 08;  has  no  history,  115. 

Nature,  our  double,  3  ;  sympathy 
of,  with  the  human  race,  5  ;  the 
moral  quality  of,  and  life,  8; 
friendship  and  the  love  of,  har 
monize,  40;  friendship  in,  53; 
humanity  before,  74 ;  poverty 
of  outward,  77 ;  prevails  over 
man  in  a  large  landscape,  89; 
no  poetry  so  wild  as,  91 ;  a 
border  life  between  society  and, 
92  ;  vision  through  the  works  of 
man  to  the  wildness  of,  93  ;  few 
speak  simply  enough  of,  106 ; 
the  promise  in  the  face  of,  119; 
no  book  can  match,  120;  on  the 
side  of  what  is  best  in  us,  123. 

Necessaries,  providing,  a  -plea 
sure,  69. 

Neighbor,  our  nearest,  3. 

Neighborhood,  the  best,  2. 

News,  as  compared  with  eternal 


truth,  the,  17;  the  kind  of,  we 

really  want,  50. 
Newspaper,  life  sacrificed  to  the, 

joo ;   a  world  outside  of  the, 

100. 

Newspapers,  48. 
Noble,  the  offspring  of  the,  tend 

to  a  higher  nobility,  63. 

Obscurity  above  better  than  false 

clearness  below,  68. 
Offspring  of  the  noble  tend  to  a 

higher  nobility,  63. 
Out-door  life,  94. 

Palate,  inspiration  through  the,  8. 

Path,  a  person  irresistible  on  his 
own,  28. 

Perception,  the  joy  of  love  and  of 
intellectual,  62. 

"  Plain  living  and  high  think 
ing,1'  17. 

Poet,  the  hibernation  of  the,  105. 

Poetry,  no,  so  wild  as  nature,  91  ; 
the  authorship  of,  104. 

Polishing  the  world,  71. 

Postponement,  fatal,  75. 

Poverty,  need  not  take  from  us 
the  purest  enjoyments,  26  ;  ad 
vantage  of,  27  ;  inward,  52  ;  of 
nature  and  internal  wealth, 
77- 

Present,  living  in  the,  22. 

Problem  of  life,  simplify  the,  42  ; 
wealth  complicates  the,  63. 

Prospect,  the  interest  of  a  new, 
89. 

Purification  of  a  soul  gives  it  a 
new  life,  the,  u. 

Purity,  inspires  the  soul,  9:  and 
sensuality  each  a  single  thing, 
10. 

Purpose,  singleness  of,  1 19. 

Reader,  there  must  be  good  hear 
ing  to  make  a  good,  112. 

Reading,  the  best  kind  of,  i. 

Reality,  what  alone  has,  18 ;  the 
great,  is  ever  here  and  now, 
18;  seek  to  penetrate  through 
surfaces  to,  19;  our  faintest 
dream  points  to  the  solidest, 
43- 

Realm  within,  the  glory  of  the, 
23. 

Reform,  individual  life  the  true 
source  of,  44;  is  better  than  its 
modes,  44. 


152 


INDEX, 


Reformer,  what  saddens  the,  12 ; 

the  friend  the  only  radical,  31  ; 

pure  love  the  radical,  63. 
Religion,  without  the  language  of 

religion,    99;    the    privacy  of, 

120. 

Reproof,  unconscious,  113. 
Reserve,  the  lover's,  56. 
Resolution,  hours  of,  106. 
Rest  for  the  soul,  49. 
Ripeness,  not  merely  the  means, 

114. 

Sanity,  our  own  cheerful,  most 
helpful  to  others,  12. 

Science,  the  soul  above,  91 ; 
should  be  allied  to  inspiration, 
102. 

Sculptor,  every  one  a,  10. 

Self-renunciation,  49. 

Self-respect,  67. 

Sense,  both  common  and  divine, 
should  be  consulted  in  mar 
riage,  57. 

Sensualist,  the  quality  of  the  ap 
petite  makes  the,  8. 

Sensuality,  purity  and,  each  a 
single  thing,  10. 

Simplicity  of  life  not  an  end,  but 

•    a  means,  76. 

Sin,  work  a  help  against,  10. 

Sincerity,  a  rare  virtue,  76. 

Singleness  of  purpose,  119. 

Sky-lights,  55. 

Slavery  to  affairs,  14. 

Sleep,  the  organs  of  one's  genius 
reinvigorated  by  healthful,  15; 
good  and  bad,  107. 

Sloth  and  affection,  60. 

Social  ills,  strike  at  the  root  of, 
by  purifying  your  own  life,  n. 

Society,  in  solitude,  i  ;  content 
with  a  too  narrow  justice,  32  ; 
the  loneliness  of  false,  72  ;  help 
ful,  77;  use  all  the,  that  will 
abet  you,  78;  a  border  life  be 
tween  nature  and,  92  ;  solitude 
and,  117. 

Solitude,  society  in,  i  ;  the  value 
of,  5  ;  appetite  for,  80  ;  friends 
found  in,  81 ;  and  society,  117  ; 
of  a  human  soul,  the,  118. 

Solvent  for  the  world,  thought  a, 
S3- 

Soul,  purity  inspires  the,  9;  the 
purification  of  a,  gives  it  a  new 
life,  ii ;  humility  enriches  the, 
more  than  culture,  27;  money 


not  necessary  for  the,  27 ;  a 
friend  nourishes  the,  30 ;  rest 
for  the,  49  ;  faithfulness  rather 
than  knowledge  saves  the,  63  ; 
care  for  the  body  compared 
with  care  for  the,  64 ;  value  of  a 
clear,  compared  with  material 
gains,  67  ;  above  science,  91 ; 
the  body  eats  up  the  substance 
of  the,  103  ;  the  solitude  of  a 
human,  118. 

Souls,  how  finite  unlikeness  iso 
lates,  73. 

Spirit,  a  warm  body  and  a  cold, 
69. 

Spring,  the  influence  of,  22 ;  water 
in  early,  119  ;  aspirations  in  the, 

121. 

Standard,  the,  within  us,  112. 

Stars,  two  solitary,  determined  to 
one  pole,  41. 

State,  the  most  precious  produc 
tions  of  a,  103. 

Stress,  lay  the  most,  on  that  which 
is  most  important,  76. 

Style  in  writing,  79. 

Success,  real,  65  ;  real,  or  failure 
is  in  our  thoughts,  82  ;  comes 
from  devotion  to  ideas,  85. 

Suicide,  intellectual  and  moral, 
101. 

Swamps,  the  attractiveness  of, 
90. 

Sympathy  of  nature  with  the  hu 
man  race,  5. 

Things  correspond  to  our  highest 
idea,  74. 

Thinking,  sane,  the  battle  in  be 
half  of,  81  ;  right,  irresistible, 
83  ;  wild,  delights  us,  oo. 

Thought,  the  most  indefinite,  sig 
nificant,  67 ;  a  solvent  for  the 
world,  83  ;  the  realm  of,  laid 
waste  by  worldly  living,  93  ; 
the  compliment  of  valuing 
one's,  94  ;  the  source  of,  above 
ourselves,  in. 

Thread  of  life,  cling  to  the,  47. 

Time,  the  shallow  stream  of,  20  ; 
not  an  ingredient  of  a  perfect 
work,  25  ;  hours  above,  104. 

Tophet,  a  man's  Elysium  or,  in 
himself,  84. 

Trifles,  the  earnest  not  hindered 
by,  54- 

Truth,  the  news  as  compared  with 
eternal,  17;  the  simplicity  of, 


INDEX. 


153 


25;   hearty,  is  one  with   love, 
32;  friends  deal  in  pure,  with 
each  other,  61  ;  and  institutions, 
104;  no,  without  love,  121. 
Truthfulness,  59. 

Ugly  facts  may  be  eradicated  from 
the  life  of  man,  46. 

Union,  the  highest,  66 ;  yourself 
and  myself  lost  in,  66;  ideal, 
66. 

Universe,  the,  conforms  to  our 
highest  ideas,  23. 

Unknown,  explore  the,  by  mend 
ing  your  ways,  86. 

Unlikeness,  how  finite,  isolates 
souls,  73. 

Value  of  a  clear  soul  compared 
with  material  gains,  67. 

Views  of  men,  the  limited,  98. 

Virtue,  a  spontaneous  innocence 
above,  no. 

Walk,  the  ideal  of  a,  87  ;  worldly 
cares  forgotten  in  a  true,  88. 

Walker,  a  true,  made  so  by  the 
grace  of  God,  88. 

Walking,  true,  is  not  for  exercise, 


Wants,  artificial,  enslave  us,  96. 

Water  in  the  early  spring,  119. 

Wealth,  the  true,  13;  does  not 
help  in  our  pursuit  of  the  high 
est,  27  ;  complicates  the  prob 
lem  of  life,  63 ;  poverty  of  na 
ture  and  internal,  77  ;  real,  n6. 

Wildness,  22  ;  the  charm  of,  89  ; 
life  consists  with,  90. 

Wisdom,  and  love,  essential  to 
each  other,  55 ;  cannot  take  the 
place  of  humanity,  no. 

Words,  indefinite,  may  be  most 
significant,  24. 

Work,  a  help  against  sin,  10 ;  fidel 
ity  in,  28 ;  essential  to  character, 
29 ;  necessity  of,  70 ;  high  re 
sults  of,  71 ;  the  higher  the  aim, 
the  more  earnest  must  be  the, 
71 ;  in  spite  of  moods,  72  ;  one's 
proper,  and  dissipation,  86  ;  for 
work's  sake,  95. 

World,  the  art  of  mankind  is  to 
polish  the,  71. 

Writer,  how  physical  labor  may 
help  the,  106. 

Writing,  style  in,  79. 

Yourself  and  myself  lost  in  the 
highest  union,  66. 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


A     000685015     o 


University  of  California 

SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 

405  Hilgard  Avenue,  Los  Angeles,  CA  90024-1388 

Return  this  material  to  the  library 

from  which  it  was  borrowed. 


L  2 


